


Museum of Flight

by Obsessive_RS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), POV Sirius Black, Remus is a Sweetheart in This, i love this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26729665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsessive_RS/pseuds/Obsessive_RS
Summary: Sirius watches him ceaselessly, the motion of his long fingers visible in the silver moonlight coming through the staircase’s window.“You’re the best mate a bloke can ask for.” Sirius says, but something about it seems wrong and insincere, like an unfinished statement hanging in the air, waiting to be grabbed and fulfilled.----A soulmate AU in which Sirius doesn't get his mark when he's supposed to, and neither does Remus.(Modern AU.)
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 139





	Museum of Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Title based on a song with the same name by Damien Jurado. Check it out.  
> This story is my baby. My sweet baby. :((  
> Please like it. Please. Pretty please?
> 
> I'll stop. :D  
> (Special thanks to my best friend who tolerated my obsessive ass.)  
> (Oh and English is not my first language. Sorry in advance for any possible errors. )

The first time he opens the leather covered blue notebook is to run his fingers on the dusty pages, rough under his pale skin. Small specks of a darker shade of tawny dance in random patterns on the paper, and he instantly falls in love. The tattered cover gives indication of torn pages, but much to his surprise, they are clear and unused, ready to come to life with his drawings.

James assures him that the idea is more than romantic - a notebook full of drawings for each cycle of the moon Sirius has to spend without his soulmate, not having the slightest idea who he is or where to find him. There are moments in which bitterness washes through him as he presses lips and exhales slowly to keep himself from howling at James,  _ You have already found yours, it's been years for me, ages,  _ the roaring animal inside him demands to say.

With Remus it's hushed promises and slow sympathy; Sirius doesn't dare question himself about why he slightly feels joy at how Remus is suffering from not being marked either, fearing that the answer will confirm the worst thoughts he has about himself; So he pushes it back and accepts the gentle voice of his best friend urging him not to lose hope, to keep the dance of his brush on the pages of the now almost full notebook. He signs each one with a 'Love, Sirius' and yearns for the day he can say the words out loud.

In the two years he spends in high school waiting for  _ some _ mark to appear on him, he knows he only has Remus to silently confide in - Lily Evans has finally given in to James's constant insistence on them being soulmates (and apparently, judging by their complementary marks, he had been right), and Peter has been touching his own with awe and reverence swimming in his dark, mousy eyes, unaware of Sirius's internal battles with disappointment and concern, only seeing the happy exterior Sirius puts on. 

"It doesn't always have to appear at 16, you know." Remus keeps reassuring him and Sirius easily forgets how his friend also has to deal with this, to brush the dismay that has set in his bones off. To Sirius, Remus is unbreakable and he chooses not to see the faux smiles the boy puts on; To Sirius, Remus is a rock, an unswerving miracle.

They rent a flat together - or rather, Sirius rents one and jams the keys inside Remus's scarred hands forcefully; Remus fills an empty corner full of carefully dusted books while ignoring Sirius's grunts of disapproval; Sirius gets smacked on the head calling a gift painting from Lily 'a cumming cunt', with Remus explaining that it is a type of Orchid while barely successful at suppressing the amusement in his voice as he carefully glances at a furious Lily and a  diverted James; Sirius pretends not to notice Remus's fatigueness when he watches him fill the pages of the notebook with drawings of blustery skies or smashed flowers, and accepts the occasional cup of tea set beside him on the table with deep gratitude; They find jobs, Remus takes classes and Sirius goes elbow deep into broken engines and run-down cars, keeping his uncle Alphard's money into an account for  _ someday _ , someday he actually needs it, not just stupidly wants it; All and all, it seems to Sirius that they are silently building a domestic world of their own, roaming in it with ease and relief and far away from the pains they are demanded to feel and beliefs they have to uphold.

Nights come with Remus lazily reading a book while sipping tea, and Sirius watching him from the corner of his gray-green eyes, a solace sought in a fashion Sirius has had years to learn and perfect, barely questioning the 'normalcy' of it, as his family like to put it. Remus hums Elliott Smith and Sirius sometimes hums back, and sometimes just listens and absorbs it all in and forgets to be worried and worked up, forgets to feel cold in the draughty room or hungry from being too idle to cook. 

That night it is 'Between the Bars' cutting through the silence of the room in low, tiny whispers, but Sirius is too overwhelmed to join in. He nervously chews on his bottom lip and before long, Remus looks up from his crossword and frowns. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing." He says, now chewing on a loose skin on his upper lip and ignores the disapproving glance from Remus. "James ringed. They're engaged." He explains.

Remus stands up from the couch and claps his hands together, and in that moment, Sirius feels annoyed at the sincere look of joy in his friend's eyes. "Blimey! That tosser finally did it!" He exclaims, reaching for his phone sitting on the coffee table. "I'll get him on the phone, if I can. The git's probably too over the moon to even remember his own bloody name."

Sirius forces out a grin and tries to breathe in the suddenly dismal space of the room, feeling his body fall into the scarce but deep pond of jealousy for his best friend. The pale skin of his forearm flashes at him in mock and he covers it with his sleeve and raises his head, just in time to meet Remus's hazel eyes. 

"He's not answering, like I said, he's probably snogging her into oblivion right now. I'll ring him again later." Remus says, dismissively, but his eyes stay warm and concerned, never leaving Sirius's gaze. Sirius snorts involuntarily but the heavy weight on his chest remains; apparently he has descended to envying his best mate's true happiness. 

"Hey, what do you say we go to a pub and get pissed?" Remus suggests as he puts the mobile down, challenging Sirius into a silent battle;  _ Either say something or lemme make you feel better. _

Sirius chooses the latter. Has been for some time now. "Let's go to the one that sells anything for a quid." He says, already reaching for his jacket that is dangling from the hanger.

If there is a hint of disappointment in Remus's eyes, Sirius tells himself it is only his rubbish imagination.

///

"You utter fucker! Why'd you tell 'em before me?" Peter smacks James on the head, but he only laughs happily, darting a glance towards Lily who is chatting with an old classmate, her auburn hair pulled into a loose ponytail that sways behind her back as she speaks.

"I only told this prat, but he blabbed to Moony the first chance he got." He reasons, pointing at Sirius with his beanie covered head that shakes with a mock accusing nod. A few strands of hair are sticking out from under various parts of it, making it especially hard to take the note of blame in his voice seriously.

"It's our twee Remus, how could I resist?" Sirius says, locking his arms around Remus's scarf covered neck and ignores the choking sound he makes. "You know how his giant eyes are, all glossy and fucking full of everything."

Remus snorts, but before he can toss him a sarcastic comeback, James cuts in, wearing an exaggerated questioning expression, "Wasn't that his cock?"

Peter decides to join in. "Pretty sure that's a myth."

Sirius glances at Remus who is flushed in ears, yet somehow is refusing to give in and show a true sign of embarrassment. "Not a myth, mate. Mine's twice the size of that pencil of yours you call a cock." 

"As someone who's seen both his and yours, Worrmy, that's a valid statement." Sirius grins, rubbing his finger on Peter's blushing cheek and unsurprisingly, gets his hand slapped away. He takes a huge gulp of his newly opened beer and when met with the satisfying taste of it, decides to chug it in one breath.

"Speaking of huge twigs and berries," he licks his lips as he sets the bottle down, leaning back into the chair, " _ I _ ’ve got another exciting and enviable news for you, Wormtail. I'm gonna be this git's best man, of course. You can now drown yourself in your bloody tears."

Before Peter can come up with any sort of response, a hand comes between the four of them, red painted fingernails and a shining diamond ring flashing in the golden lights of the kitchen. James takes it and places a wet kiss on a knuckle, answered by three simultaneous growls. 

"You're bloody disgusting, mate." Remus turns his head, missing how Lily gives him an apologetic glare. 

"Yes, he is." She says, but Sirius can see the corners of her lips quirk up as she takes the hat off of her fiance's head. "Your hair's minging as it is, no need to put this thing on it too." 

"It smells like wank, 'cause your fiance's a wanker, love. Poor choice you made, really." Sirius offers, and Peter nods in agreement. Lily laughs, leaning forward, and pinches Sirius's pale cheek. He yanks his face away, gently rubbing the sour spot.

"You're just bitter because you're losing your best mate." She says, and the small stinging truth in it sends a jolt to Sirius's heart. There is no surprise in how well he can feel it all together, loss and gloominess with the same heart he uses to love and hope for his best friend; he has always been this way. He feels heavily and deeply, sometimes enough to even sense them on his skin.

"'M gutted." he slowly says and takes a sip from Remus's warm beer. "But life's going on, and when this tosser's stuck at home with you, we three bachelor gentlemen are having blinding nights of fun."

Peter raises his hand, "Actually, with everything going on with this git here, I forgot to tell you. I've found this lovely bird who's also got a little mouse on her forearm." he says, gesturing to his own, and for a moment they all go silent.

"Congratulations, man!" Remus finally breaks the silence and pats Peter on the back with such force, he bends down and his nose almost touches the table. "What's she like?"

Sirius watches as Peter grins smugly. "Her name's Susan. She's brilliant, works with me on a project at uni." he says, "Brilliant, she is."

"Probably isn't brilliant if she's daft enough to work with you, Wormy." Sirius says and doesn't need to raise his head to feel the intense glare Remus throws at him, but he still does, catching the other guy's eyes before he hurriedly turns his face away. Looks and glances are their way of communicating when words can be too much, and Sirius has always guitily enjoyed the intimacy of it.

"Sod off, Padfoot."

"What does she look like, anyway?"

"Pretty. Blonde. Has blue eyes you can get lost in, like a vast lake in summer."

James snorts. "Two things, mate. One, we already know she is bloody too good for you, no need to go into details. Two, one can only get lost in my  _ fiance _ 's eyes, if you may." he announces, cheekily. "I hope our kid has yours, honey."

"Yes, yes, we're all bloody happy and disgusting. Now, let's have a toast, to these two plonkers, and apparently Wormy." Sirius says, raising his empty bottle, and avoids Remus's gaze at all costs. 

He knows it can burn holes into his soul, and there are enough of them in it as it is.

  
  


"Are you pissed?" Remus softly asks him, locking an arm around his waist for support. Sirius shakes his head, and almost laughs at how untrue his gesture is. Disarray is basically radiating from his skin; so thick, he is sure Remus can feel it hanging around their bodies, ready to knock them both over in a way or another. Either in the form of the ravings of a lunatic, or in a more literal way when Sirius inevitably falls to his knees. He is then grateful, because neither happens; instead, Remus frowns with his whole face and shakes his head.

"I'm not a mug, Sirius. We probably shouldn't go back home like this. You need proper sleep before you can walk that far." 

Sirius nods and the motion sends a wave to his stomach, the contents of it threatening to come out of his mouth. "You're probably right. But aren't you always, dear Moony?" he says, taking a deep breath through his mouth, refusing to inhale the smell of cheap vodka Peter has honked in. "I don't wanna stay here though. I know we're mates, but I don't think I can take hearing James shag Lily in the next room." he says and then looks up at Remus, trying his best to put on the expression Remus calls 'poppy-eyed Padfoot'. It apparently works, as Remus sighs, stroking the nape of his own neck with a grunt. 

"Fine. I think I saw a motel a block away from here. But I absolutely  _ won't _ carry you there. If you can't make it that far, we're staying here."

Sirius doesn't need to think about it; at the moment, he'd rather crawl all the way to China than to stay in the soon to be  _ the Potter's _ spare bedroom. "Yeah, I think I can."

He leans on Remus as they make their way out of the back door, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone, as they are all squiffy at best. The crisp night weather welcomes them with a short breeze, and Sirius sobers up a bit right then. For some reason, however, he doesn't shake off Remus's slender arm, resting on it a bit, sniffing the scent of chocolate and Earl Grey in. In its half drunken state, his mind decides to focus on the answer to the impossible question of how Remus manages to smell the same as always after a long party. When having failed, he breaks the silence with a bark-like laugh.

"It's just me and you now, Moony."

Remus tilts his head, the ends of his sandy brown locks brushing against Sirius's cold cheeks. "When has it been anything else?" he quietly asks, slowing his footsteps. Sirius stops and looks at him.

"Do I hear a hint of resentment in your voice, dear Remus? Are you sick of me?"

"You know very well, Sirius, that there's no getting buggered with you. You never give one room to do that. Now, sod off for a minute, and let me put all of my effort into helping you walk the rest of the way." he says, yanking Sirius by the arm, urging him forward. Sirius lets himself be carried, too tired and unfocused to do otherwise.

As promised, there is a dodgy motel jammed between a closed drug store and what looks like the wreckage of an old Victorian house. 

"This'll do then." Remus announces, an amused grin dancing on his lips. "Probably not as posh as you'd wanted it to be, though."

"If this hell-hole has a bed, it's as good as Eden to me." Sirius growls, his stomach mimicking the sound. "Blimey, I'm fucking hungry. Peter stuffed his bloody belly full of those small sandwiches Lily had made. The tosser never leaves anything for anyone else."

Remus chuckles and carefully avoids a small pit on the sidewalk as they reach the entrance of the motel. "I suggest you forget about eating here, looks like it hasn't been properly cleaned for yonks."

"Give me a piece of chocolate then, I know you always have one in the pocket of your jumper." he argues.

"Let's get you inside a room first, then you can have whatever you want."

"You've got a filthy mush, Moony." he can't help but say, and Remus snorts in amusement.

"Prat."

They walk inside, greeted by an old man who can't seem to believe they actually exist. He runs towards them, sweeping a strand of greasy black hair away from his face. "Good night, gentlemen. May I take your luggage?"

Sirius can't help but smirk. "Posher than we'd thought, apparently." He whispers and Remus bites his lip to suppress his laughter.

"No luggage, thank you." He politely answers, moving towards the wooden front desk. The man beats him to it, pulling out a large black notebook and putting it in front of himself, fishing a pen from his shirt's pocket. "How many rooms?" 

Remus examines Sirius briefly before shaking his head, a small smile creeping on his chapped lips. "One."

Gratitude washes through Sirius as he hears the answer, not really wanting to be alone tonight. He fumbles his wallet from his trousers, but there is no cash inside. "Do you take credit cards?" he asks, desperately, but Remus puts a hand on his shoulder and wags his head. 

"I've got it, mate. Wait one more minute and we'll get you upstairs." 

Sirius nods, trying his best not to look pitiful. He sits on a fusty sofa, rubbing his eyes with his cold palms. There had always been bad days in which Sirius had wanted to disappear for a month, days of getting beaten by his father, or discarded by his younger brother; days in which he had wanted to grab Jame's pocket knife and draw a mark on his own forearm, just to see if he'd still feel. Yet there is something unnerving about how rubbish this particular day has been, as it is supposed to be a happy one, the starting line of his best mate's future life, a day to celebrate. Much to his mortification, Sirius finds it hard to feel joy; only despair bubbling inside his abdomen, lungs, throat.

"Let's go." Remus says and Sirius jumps up from his seat, causing a cloud of dust to rise as well. They both stare at it for a moment and then burst out laughing.

"I hope the beds aren't as bad." Remus huffs. He puts the key into the lock of a dilapidated door, amorphous blots of green paint covering a color Sirius decides once has been amber. The door cracks open, revealing a four poster bed and a simple closet in the middle of a carpet covered floor.

"Who puts a sodding closet in the middle of a room?" Is Sirius's first sentence when he enters the room, eyeing the entrance to the loo warily. The throbbing in his cock urges him forward however, him ignoring Remus's protests. "I gotta take a piss, I'll be out in a moment."

He keeps his promise, washing his hands barely a minute later and kicking open the door with his foot. "The loo's not that bad, try it."

Remus slightly nods before disappearing into the said bathroom, and without hesitation, Sirius throws himself on the bed. The mattress is surprisingly soft, bending under his weight with ease. He punches the pillow a few times to make a head shaped hole inside of it and he lies there, not bothering to take off his boots. 

Remus comes out and finally manages to open the window after a few tries, the distant barking of a dog and fresh air instantly filling the room. He sits on the bed and Sirius watches his long fingers undo the ties on his shoes and zipper of his jumper and then Sirius is nose to nose with a large piece of chocolate.

"Thanks." he laughs and tears the silver and gold wrapper, cramming a big part of the milk candy inside his mouth. "How much you spend on all these sweets, I don't wanna know."

Remus lies next to him, legs tangled in the white and blue sheets under their feet. "It's not really that much." he absently says, and reaches his hand out to pull the covers on the both of them, before noticing Sirius full clothed. "Not gonna take some of those off?" he asks, moonlight made shadows of his mouth dancing as it moves. Sirius is too aware of the way they tangle together with gray shades from his long lashes, hardly stopping himself from joining in with his own fingertips. 

"Your seduction skills are way off, Moony. Not subtle at all." He settles on joking instead, trying to lighten the heavy and gloominess waving inside his chest. It is no use; the feeling clings stubbornly and grows thicker with each breath he takes. 

There is no eccentricity in his movements as Remus sits up and leans over to untie the bootlaces with unshaking fingers, throwing the pair somewhere on the dusty floor. Sirius shudders slightly, not knowing the source to be the chilly autumn breeze or the brush of his friend's nails on his now bare ankle. Remus notices it though and pulls the blanket higher on their horizontal bodies.

A pure serenity charges the air and Sirius joyfully breaths it in while silently running his palm up and down an unoccupied place on the mattress. There are not many moments of peace in their lives, and as a marauder, Sirius is shameful to admit he craves them from time to time. James probably doesn’t share his idea however, and thinking about how Peter once blindly stuck his tongue to a cube of ice just because James had, Sirius is sure he won’t find a supporter in him either. Remus is a different story; He has been born to sprinkle calmness on anything he lays eyes on, with his steady voice or soft smile is irrelevant. Sirius drinks it in, anytime he can’t find in himself the urge to breathe, and Remus generously gives, and gives, never showing a sign of wanting to quit. So that is why Sirius feels guilty for breaking the peaceful atmosphere when he does, but it occurs to him that Remus is probably asleep by now and his audience would only be the grubby walls.

"I'man arsehole, aren't I? The bloke's radiating with happiness and euphoria and I'm getting pissed and narked in the corner, like some sort of raider in a land of joy. I'm pants at this, really. I should be over the moon for him but I'm an absolute pathetic prat." 

Much to his surprise, a muffled voice answers. "You're not."

Sirius's eyes flutter open. "Fuck. You're awake."

"Appears so."

He takes a deep breath and lets it out as a sigh. "Any comments?"

A rustling sound fills his ears and a moment later, Remus's porcelain face is illuminated by a lighted match. He fumbles through the nightstand with one hand while urgently holding the match with the other. A burning candle soon replaces the burnt matchstick and faint flashes of light dance between them.

"You know my answer to this, Sirius. I've said it a hundred times. It's natural to feel this way."

"Is it though?" he asks, "Do you feel this way? When you see them?"

Remus tilts his head backwards, the lines of his throat showing. "No, I don't." he finally says, resting his free arm behind his neck. 

"Ha! So it's not normal, see?" Sirius retorts triumphantly. "So I'm the freak here."

Remus huddles further into his side of the bed and licks his lips. "I'd rather nobody was a freak, but if I'd have to pick one, I'd go with me." he pauses; "I'm the poor one, the one that comes from a broken home and has scars all over his body."

Sirius's heartbeat quickens from the sudden anger blossoming inside his chest and he sits up, his head now in level with Remus's. "That's a load of tosh. You're brilliant."

"Thank you." he only says, and Sirius's heart breaks.

"You don't get it, do you? How brilliant and essential you are. We wouldn't survive a day without you. Been that way since we were eleven and sat beside you at that awful cafeteria."

"Don't exaggerate, Sirius. You can manage very well without me."

Sirius pulls at the sleeve of his friend's shirt impatiently. "To sod with the others,  _ I _ can't manage without you."

A short silence is set between them before Remus clears his throat. "What I'm trying to say is that, I'm fucked up as it is. What's some more? I'm used to it. I can handle not having a mark. Another cruel prank universe has played on me."

Remus's self-deprecating speech surprisingly pokes at a part of Sirius's brain that is tied to anger, and he finds himself infuriated beyond reason. With a clenched jaw, he speaks in a tone he knows Remus will recognize as unnaturally calm. "You deserve any good thing you want more than anyone I know." 

When he gets no answer, Sirius slightly leans up and blows out the candle. "Is it easier to talk if I can't see you?"

"No." Remus's voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. "We should sleep. You're sloshed."

"Remus;"

"Goodnight, Pads."

Not able to do much else, Sirius nestles against the wall defeatedly, and with a deep ache pinching the insides of his stomach, he lets pictures of a bright future consume his half-bewildered mind.

///

The door of the shop opens with a jingling sound and Sirius looks up from the beaten motor just in time to catch a glimpse of a young boy -about 16- before he disappears inside the management office. Sirius cleans his hands with a rag and takes a sip of water from the bottle he keeps in his back pocket. Standing on his tiptoe, he tries to catch a glimpse of the conversation going on inside the office, and right about when he manages to spot them behind the window, the door opens and the boy and the manager burst out. Sirius instantly goes back to his work, pretending to have seen the boy for the first time.

"Can I help you, mate?"

The boy smirks and shakes his head. "Nah. This bloke here better break it to you. Ta, lad." he says the last part to the nervous-looking manager and smirks again, leaving the shop as sudden as he'd come inside it.

The man -Terry- drags his foot on the stone floor and smiles anxiously. "Come to my office, son. We gotta talk."

Sirius looks at the roaring engine and then his dirty palms. "Uh, maybe I oughta finish this first." he says, pointing to the car with a raised eyebrow.

"I doubt you'd still wanna finish your work when I tell ya the thing."

"What thing?" Sirius asks, panic slowly rising in his chest.

A drop of sweat slides down on Terry's neck and he whips it with his sleeve. "The thing is, that boy there was the owner's nephew, and the kid wants a job, apparently."

"So? What's it to do with me?" he asks, but he already knows he won’t like the answer.

"You've been here a long time, mate. My best mechanic, you are. But the kid wants it and I can't do nothing 'bout it, you hear me?"

Sirius gasps, freezing on the spot, without even being able to raise a hand. “You’re saying I’m sacked?” 

Terry looks as if he is in pain. He nods apologetically and puts his hand on Sirius’s shoulder, and Sirius immediately shakes it off, knowing that the touch will do nothing but make him more angry, and his anger blended with disbelief is a combination Sirius has long learnt is a recipe for disaster.

“You’re an arse.” he says, however, and Terry seems to silently agree.

“I’ll pay you for the next month too, but there’s nothing more I can do; sorry, mate.” 

Sirius groans. “All this for a 16 year old kid who probably needs the extra dosh for buying a bloody rubber ducky or some shite.”

“15.” the other man mumbles, and Sirius’s eyes go wide. Brilliant. 

“I pay rent, Terry. That kid pays rent? The posh little git.”

Terry slowly shakes his head. “Sorry, Sirius, dunno what I can do. Sorry, really.”

As if struck with a force from heaven, Sirius suddenly finds the ability to move again, and throws the rag on the ground, followed by his black apron. “You’ve got my address, Terry. Send me whatever the hell you should. Have a brilliant day.” he says, exiting the shop before he can hear the man’s response, taking his clothes from the hanger on his way out.

Hugged by the chilly October air, Sirius fishes out a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his leather jacket after walking for a while, and instantly lights one. The smoke burns his throat in a way he’s come to appreciate rather than tolerate, and he exhales it through his nose. He pulls his phone out of his dark jeans and dials a certain number almost automatically, a reflex in times he feels lost and overwhelmed.

“Sirius? You alright? I’m in the middle of a class, is everything alright?” Remus whispers, and Sirius can hear muffled voices in the background.

“Yeah, ’m fine. Just wanted to check on you.”

There are a few moments of silence, and then Remus speaks again, this time more audibly. “A’right. I’m out of the class. Now go on. What’s wrong?”

Sirius swallows, an affectionate smile stretching his dried and blue lips. “Nothin’, really. ‘M fine, mate.”

“Bullocks. Tell me where you are and I’ll be there in no time.”

“Really, you don’t have-”

Remus cuts in, impatiently. “Come on, Pads. I haven’t got all day, you know.”

With a lump of bittersweet gratitude, Sirius gives him the address. “I’m a block away from the shop.”

“The mechanic shop? I’ll be there.” he says, and hangs up.

Not ten minutes later, Remus arrives, and Sirius is in the middle of his fourth cigarette. With worried eyes, Remus examines him, before reaching out his hand. 

“Better give me a fag, I feel like this’ll be a tough conversation.” he says, but when Sirius opens the packet, he shakes his head. “Give me yours. We can share, like we did in school.”

Sirius smirks, despite himself. “We only did that because we were too poor to have a fag each.” he says, handing the cigarette to Remus, and watches as his colorless lips close around it.

Remus puffs out the smoke in a short laughter. “You’ve never been poor, Sirius. Dramatic, maybe. Not poor.”

“Well, maybe I’m about to enter the land as well.” Sirius says, fumbling with his fingers, and Remus frowns.

“What?”

Sirius gives him a bark like chuckle and scratches the nape of his neck. God, how hard it is to break bad news to Remus. “I got sacked.” he explains, nevertheless, and Remus stares at him in surprise.

“Really?” 

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s fine.” he says, calmly, “You’ve got your uncle’s money. There’s no trouble, am I right?”

Sirius glares at him in disbelief. “Are you mad? I’m not touching that money.”

“Why not? It’s yours.” he asks, taking a long drag from the almost finished cigarette, and Sirius lights another one.

“I’m only using that money when I’m in desperate need.” he explains, firmly, and gives the cigarette to Remus. The boy takes it and throws the stub of the other one on the ground, squishing it with the hill of his boat shoes.

“If you’re this set on it then, it’s no problem.” he kindly says, “I’ll cover the rent till you find a job.”

“What? No, that’s not what I- I’ve got enough money for the next two months’ rent or so. You don’t have to-” he stammers, horrified by the thought of Remus spending all his money on their unnecessarily large flat that Sirius had insisted was a smart choice. 

Remus almost jams the cigarette between Sirius’s lips, forcing him to go silent. Sirius coughs, amusement waving through him. “You arsehole, this isn’t really my favorite reason for having to shut up.” he laughs breathlessly, and Remus does too.

“It’s either this or jamming my fist inside your mush; your choice.”

“Well;”

Remus cuffs him on the head forcefully, and the pain somehow warms Sirius up. “Bugger off, will ya?” he says, guffawing, “Just lemme take care of it for sometime. It’s really no bother at all.”

Sirius suppresses the urge to ruffle Remus’s hair the way he used to do in school and instead locks his arm around the guy’s slim shoulders, resting his head against his neck. “What would I do without you?” he whispers, and Remus shudders beside him. 

“Are we back to you lot not being able to manage without me?” he slowly says, and for a moment, Sirius thinks he can hear diffidence in his tone. It is also the first time in the past week he acknowledges that night’s conversations, and Sirius doesn’t know to feel relieved or frightened.

“It’s still absolutely true, you know.” he insists, nonetheless.

“And I still disagree.”

Sirius stumps on the cigarette butt he tosses down and fidgets, watching the sky starting to go dark. “This here is the case in point, Moony dear. Don’t argue with me.”

“You choosing not to manage without me is  _ not _ the same as you not being able to, you know.” Remus says, softly, and Sirius wants to roar in rage.

“Are you being purposely daft, or is it just a special favor to me? 

“Look, I’m just preparing you for the day I-”

“The day you what? Sit on your arse and suddenly die?”

“Yes!” Remus abruptly yells, taking Sirius by surprise. “I’m ill, remember?” he says, shaking Sirius’s arm off his shoulder.

Blood drains from Sirius’s face and he grips the wall tightly, steadying himself, as he suddenly feels the wind might blow him over. “You’re taking meds, it’s under control.” he says, weakly.

Remus, apparently regretting his sudden outburst, grabs Sirius’s sleeve and smiles apologetically. “Sorry. But you know how it is, don’t you?” he says, “And with all the fags,” he points to the packet inside Sirius’s palm, chuckling, “And the booze and everything, we can’t really expect much.”

“You have emphysema. It’s not fatal, Remus.” Sirius repeats, hoping the tremor in his voice isn’t audible to Remus. “Bugger off, will you?”

For a moment, Remus looks as if he means to say something, but decides against it, and shakes his head. “Fine. Let’s go home now. ‘M not really a fan of filthy street walls against my beige cardigan, Pads.”

Sirius snorts. “You’re such a nancy boy. Seriously, you need a proper education on how to be a bloke.”

“ _ Seriously _ , then?” Remus snickers.

“Oh, bugger off.”

///

For the next two weeks, Sirius is in a mode he knows his mates call “Padfoot the beast”, and he can’t say he disagrees; with searching for a job (and miserably failing in finding one), being stuck inside the flat all day (despite Remus’s constant insistence he goes out for a walk -and when that doesn’t work, a fag), and on top of it all, Regulus’s letter, he is closer to a raging monster than he has even been.

The younger Black’s letter comes on a Monday morning, and Remus makes the error of handing it to Sirius without checking the sender’s name. 

“What the actual fuck?” Sirius suddenly yells, leaving the kitchen and going into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He stays there as long as it takes him to chunder all of his breakfast. When he gets out, Remus is shamelessly reading the letter, his fingertips trailing the lines as he goes on.

“He’s asking you to go back home, because your mother doesn’t want you to become, and I quote, ‘like that bitch Andromeda’,” he says, futilely, and Sirius nods.

“That’s what’s in it, yeah.”

Remus studies him carefully. “So, you gonna go?”

Sirius is waiting for the  _ gotcha _ , but when it doesn’t come, he blinks in disbelief. “Are you bonkers?”

“No, they just seem like they really miss you.”

“Funny way of showing it they’ve got.” he growls, stealing a piece of a scone from Remus’s plate; Being exposed to air, it’s gone stale, and Sirius spits it out. “Will you go meet your dad if he asks?”

Remus goes still. “No;” he mumbles, “I won’t. I suppose it’s fair then.”

“Yes, well, I made the mistake of giving my address to Regulus  _ for emergencies _ , so it’s only natural I get bitten in the arse by my good intentions.”

“Do you hate him too?” Remus asks all of a sudden, and Sirius doesn’t need time to answer him. He has spent countless nights thinking about it while in bed, staring at the shadows on the ceiling and remembering all the stories he used to tell his brother to help him go to sleep.

“No, I’m just disappointed in him.” he says, shortly, and eyes Remus vaguely. “Why?”

“Nothing, I just always wondered would it have been different if I had a sibling or something. Would they stop my dad from beating me?” he explains, casually, as if talking about last week’s weather.

“I did it for him, because I was the older one.” Sirius says, smiling bitterly. Just thinking about all the time and energy spent on defending his brother and protecting him from their parents, he feels stupid.

“He’s lucky.” Remus slowly says. The skin on the back of Sirius’s neck goes damp with sweat, and he fans it with his hand. Remus’s comment has apparently sent him into a state of pure euphoria, and he has to shake his head to snap out of it.

“Well, not as lucky as a kid with normal parents, but I did my best.” he says, and paces around the kitchen table. Finally, he stops, slightly kneeling down, his eyes in level with Remus’s. “I took beatings for Regulus, but I need you to know something. I will  _ kill  _ for you, Moony.”

The freckles on Remus’s face disappear as he blushes, turning his head slightly away. “Don’t be ridiculous.” he says, and Sirius grasps his arm. 

“I mean it.” 

“Yeah,” Remus exhales deeply, “ That’s what I’m afraid of.”

A thick silence clasps them tightly, too overwhelming for Sirius to break, so he only observes as Remus drinks his tea sip by sip, seemingly unfazed, and dips a cookie inside it, tossing it in his mouth in one go. It really is home, Sirius realizes, and he is not wishing to go back, or elsewhere, or even a bit far away.

“Burn that damn thing.” he says, “And let’s watch American Beauty. That film’s brilliant.”

  
  


Two days later, Sirius comes home from a job interview and is met with a suspiciously grinning Remus and a smug-looking James. They pipe down as soon as he opens the door, and James puts on an expression so innocent, Sirius snorts.

“What the bloody hell are you two up to?”

James taps his finger on the counter and shrugs dismissively, “Nothin’.” he says, checking his watch. “Now, how about we go out?”

“You know that I’m all for a good pub and a bit of dancing, but not tonight, dear Prongs. I’m knackered, I’m going to bed. It’s been a rubbish day.”

Remus comes forward, grabbing him by his arm. “Come on, mate. It’s a brilliant day. Let’s go out.”

Before Sirius can so much as open his mouth, he is outside again, a familiar looking scarf wrapped around his neck. He scans it and realizes it is his flatmate’s, the scent of his woody cologne filling his nose. He breaths it in and it does something to him he can’t quite explain.

“Where are we going?”

James smiles devilishly. “To my flat, of course. It’s brass monkeys outside.”

“You don’t say.” he groans, and Remus pokes him so hard in the ribs, he almost chokes.

“Get going, Pads. Go on.” he says.

They walk in a strange quietness, only occasionally broken by James growling under his breath and Remus chuckling to himself. They reach James and Lily’s flat in what feels like a heartbeat and Sirius suspiciously lets them go forward, and right before James unlocks the door, Remus tugs him in front of himself, holding a firm grip on his shoulders, as if to prevent him from running away.

The flat is dark, and before Sirius can see, Remus pushes him inside and then-

“Happy birthday!” several voices yell out and somebody flips the switch on, and there in the glamouring gold and red lights, all his friends stand. Somehow without him noticing, Remus has left his behind and is standing in the middle of them, a broad smile painting his lips, his eyes glinting with excitement.

“Happy birthday, Padfoot.” he steps forward, taking Sirius into a crushing hug, and Sirius doesn’t really mind if it breaks all the bones in his body. He feels tears starting to well up in his eyes and sniffles silently. “You git! I didn’t even remember today was my birthday.” he murmurs in his friend’s ear, not feeling quite ready to let go yet. Much to his disappointment, however, James yanks Remus away and replaces him, tugging on Sirius’s hair with mischief. 

“Happy birthday, you oldman!”

“You’re just 4 months younger than me, Prongs.” he only manages to say before is silenced by an auburn tress of hair getting inside his mouth. “Ugh!” he mumbles, pulling it out, and Lily kisses him warmly on the cheek.

“Happy birthday, Sirius.”

“Thank you.” he chokes up, and looks at Remus who returns his gaze instantly, an unrecognizable emotion swimming inside his hazel eyes. 

Peter pats him on the back, his hands slightly trembling, and Sirius realizes he is already squiffy. “‘Appy birthday, mate! You’re the oldest of us all!” he shrikes, and Remus kindly leads him to a chair.

“Sit down, Wormtail. You’re a bit sloshed, aren’t you?”

“Well, innt what we oughta do in parties?” he argues, and for the first time in his life, Sirius feels respect for the man.

“Give the bloke some space, he’s right.” he remarks, and James nods in agreement. Remus sighs defeatedly, and for a moment Sirius feels guilty for getting pissed in every party they go to and leaning on Remus afterwards. “But Lily’ll lose the plot if you chunder all over the flat again.” he adds, helpfully.

“Noted.” Peter growls.

“So, where’s your girlfriend?” Lily asks.

“She couldn’t come tonight, but she really wants to meet you lot.”

Sirius grins. “Who doesn’t?”

“Sirius?” Lily half asks, and he laughs, “What did we say about arrogant prats?”

“I dunno, don’t marry them?”

Remus chuckles and sprawls on the floor, his long legs tangled together in an odd way. “He has a point, you know.” he says to Lily, and she snorts.

“You always agree with him. It’s uncanny.”

Sirius lolls beside Remus, his head loosely resting on his friend’s shoulder. “It happens to be because I’m always right, and Moony here knows that.” he says. James hands him a glass full of something that smells like cheap vodka, but Sirius puts it down beside him on the floor. “I’m not getting pissed tonight.”

“Getting too old for it?” James mocks, and is gifted with a smack on his head, provided by Lily. “What? He’s twenty one, you know.” he protests. 

“No, I just thought I’d give Moony’s back a rest for a night.” Sirius explains and melts further beside Remus who is drawing imaginary patterns on Sirius’s knee with his finger. It tickles, but he doesn’t pull his leg away. “He’s been carrying me for the past three years.”

“Four, if you count the year you learnt about stealing whiskey from your dad.” Remus corrects him, and Sirius smiles at him, fondly.

“I guess we go way back, Moony.”

James huffs loudly. “Hate to interrupt your sickeningly sweet moment here, but you need to say hello to the others, Pads. And then we oughta give you your present.”he says, waving his hand between their faces, and pulls Sirius up. Remus follows, grunting, and rubs his back.

“When he says present, he means from the three of them. I had nothing to do with that monstrosity, I’ll have you know.” Lily says, and Sirius almost feels sick with excitement. Knowing James, ‘the monstrosity’ can vary from a hungry buffalo to a yacht. 

“Can I see the monstrosity first?” he asks, waving away Remus who laughs in amusement.

“You may be twenty one, but you’re still twelve, Pads, I swear.”

“Ten.” James chimes in.

“Sod off, will you?” Sirius groans, “Fine then. I’ll say hello to everyone,  _ mum and dad _ ,” he looks at the grinning couple, “And then can I have my present?”

“Yes, sweetheart. You can.”

For the next fifteen minutes, when greeting his old friends and thanking them, Sirius can only seem to notice Remus hovering faintly in the background, taking a sip of beer, or chatting with everybody and nobody, but mainly answering Sirius’s glances with his own, both of them smiling for a reason Sirius is not aware of. He almost gets airily drunk on it, floating in the room with such ease he wonders if he’s dreaming.

Remus grabs his arm when he is done talking to the last guest - a blonde girl he vividly remembers making out with in a broom closet - and pushes him through the back door, followed by James, Lily, and a now completely pissed Peter. Sirius almost falls from the last step, but steadies himself by gripping the handrail quickly, and rushes to the street behind James, eyeing it up and down for anything out of the ordinary, but nothing comes to sight.

“So?” he asks, and they all grin at him like mad people.

“You don’t see it, mate?” James gives him a sly smile and it grows when Sirius shakes his head no. He smugly points at a black thing Sirius can’t quite make out at first, resting beside a rusty vintage Camaro. Then, his brain catches up, identifying the object as a beaten but shiny motorcycle.

“What-” he stammers, crossing the street with such long steps his jeans stretch in protest. The bike seems about as old as Sirius himself, uncarefully painted in black, so Sirius can make out a few tarnished spots on its handles and side-panels. He turns around, facing the small crowd behind him as they watch him nervously, and breaks into a smile so wide he thinks his face might explode.

“I’m your humble servant, from now on.” he exclaims, “Even yours, Wormy.”

James chuckles in relief, his nose crinkling. “You oughta be Moony’s servant then, it was all his idea.”

Sirius’s gaze shifts to Remus who is beaming bashfully, his sandy locks framing his long and usually pasty face, turning him into a picture of pure beauty. With every moment that Sirius can’t take his eyes away from Remus, the other boy’s cheeks darken, eventually turning to a light shade of crimson. His lips quirk however, growing into a crescent shaped smile.

“Thank you.” Sirius whispers, before throwing himself into his friend’s open embrace, and Remus caresses his back, his touch burning, even through layers of clothes. Sirius licks the nape of his neck, and the taller man pinches him lightly, his breathy laugh filling Sirius’s ears.

“You’re welcome, Pads.”

“Hey!” Lily breaks the magic of the moment with her sharp voice, and if she wasn’t a girl, or James so strong, Sirius would with no doubt have punched her. “I still haven’t given you  _ my _ gift!”

"There's still the instructions for our gift, honey." James cuts in, "Long story short, Pads, it doesn’t really work. You gotta fix it up if you gonna use it.”

Sirius smirks at Remus who is looking at him in horror and says, in a very firm voice, “I’m gonna take Moony to his classes with it;  _ every morning _ .”

He greatly enjoys it as Remus waves hastily as though it might blow Sirius enough far away to be safe from him. “That’s not happening, Sirius.” he objects, “Lily, about your present? Now’d be an excellent time, don’t you think?”

“Yes, about my gift.” she nods, “It’s waiting for you inside. So how about we go in? I’m freezing.”

Sirius is too happy to nag about Lily killing their buzz and follows her inside willingly, barely stopping himself from stepping on her long green dress multiple times. Inside the flat is now a bit chillier, since they’ve left the door open, but none of the guests seem to have noticed, chatting frivolously. There is a drinking game going on in a corner, and Sirius’s old lab partner is yelling, “That’s not what you said the rules were!”

Lily disappears into her and James’s bedroom, and meanwhile Sirius sprawls on the couch next to Peter, and has to firmly refuse two invitations for beer pong and what seems to be a literal game of ‘shag, marry, kill’, with the last part generously changed into ‘slap’. Lily then comes out again, both her hands behind her tiny waist, a bit out of breath. Sirius pulls his loose hair into a bun and waits for her to reveal what she is clearly hiding.

“So?” he asks again, already unimpressed by Lily, but she gives him a devilish grin and brings out a helmet from behind her back. 

“So you’d be safe.”

“What? That is not funny, Evans.”

Apparently, he is the only one who thinks so, because Remus and James -and god, even Peter- are having a hard time suppressing their laughter. 

“It really is.” James protests, kissing Lily briefly. “It is hilarious, Lil.”

“Lily,” Sirius starts, and tries to sound as polite as possible while annoyed, “thank you.” he finally says, and Lily’s grin somehow has grown wider.

“You’re cutely daft, Sirius.” she sweetly brushes a finger against his cheek, a trait of her Sirius hasn’t yet gotten used to, and reaches her hand in front of him again, this time a carefully wrapped package inside it, and puts it into Sirius’s palm. “Happy birthday again, sweety.”

He tears the light gold shimmering paper apart, and a packet falls into his lap. He examines it thoroughly, opening the lid cautiously (because even though he’d never admit it, he knows Lily can be more crazy than him and James combined), only to discover a large number of coloring pencils staring at him, different shades beautifully in contrast with the simple white of the packet. A card is also sitting on his knee, and he slowly opens it, drinking every word of it in.

_ ‘You think no one sees the beauty you can create; but I do, Sirius Black. So will the others. _

_ With love, _

_ Lily.’ _

“What does it say?” Peter peeks from behind him, and Sirius closes the card immediately, putting it inside his pocket.

“Not important.” he says, and stands from his seat to pull Lily into a hug, “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” he whispers, and Lily only embraces him tighter. From behind her slender shoulders, James gives him a genuine smile and Sirius is too overwhelmed to return it.

“I’ll give you lots something to eat if Sirius lets go of me.” Lily jokes, and Sirius blushes, because yes, he has been holding her for too long.

“Sorry.” he laughs, nervously, and scratches his neck. “We’re waiting then.”

They stuff their mouths with Lily’s homemade sausage rolls, and Sirius later kisses four people, shrugs off the girl who chooses him for ‘shag’, gleefully slaps James, and gets slapped by him in return. 

It is almost 2 a.m. when the last of the guests leave, with only Sirius, Remus and the Potters remaining, and also Peter, passed out on the kitchen floor, clutching tightly to his trousers (as a result of Sirius’s earlier attempts to pull them off - and surprisingly, not as a dare.). James insists they stay and play a video game, but Sirius feels too drained, and knows he will lose if he agrees, and that is not a pleasure he wants to give his best mate. So he pulls them into hugs and promises to come back for the bike soon, nudges Peter with his foot, earning a muffled whine from him, and leaves the flat, with Remus by his side.

“That was one hell of a party.” Remus says when they reach the intersection, and holds Sirius in his place by a steady grip on his sleeve, “Wait till the light’s green, Sirius.” he mumbles, and Sirius growls. It can be funny when Remus is strict about rules, but right then, in November’s cold air and with his eyes watering, Sirius decides that it is not.

“It’s two a.m.” he snarls and looks up and down the street where there is not even one moving car in sight.

“Great party, right?” Remus ignores his comment, repeating himself again. It takes Sirius a few moments to bite down his snarky response, and instead he nods, sliding closer to Remus. The taller guy tightens Sirius’s -or rather his own- scarf absentmindedly, painting an absolute picture of domesticity that Sirius can’t ignore; and it sends a bizarre rush through his spine, tightening his chest.

“It was brilliant, yes.” 

The light turns green and they both pass the empty street. Sirius silently counts his steps, a trick he’s learned from Regulus to steady his nerves, and by seventy three, he’s calm enough to speak without his voice breaking. “How’d you know?” he asks.

Remus raises an eyebrow in question, and Sirius almost laughs at how easy it is for him to decipher his friend’s smallest moves into full sentences. “To get me the bike.” he explains, and Remus steals his eyes away from him.

“Thought it’d be a good thing for you to have a project of some sort.” he bashfully says, his sharp jawline somewhat softened by the glamouring streetlights. 

Sirius feels a strong urge to do  _ something _ , but he doesn’t know what, doesn’t even have a small clue of some sort, so he settles on playfully nudging Remus with his elbow, and earns a hearty laughter from him. They are now on their flat’s doorstep, waiting for Remus to fish out the keys from his coat. Sirius watches him ceaselessly, the motion of his long fingers visible in the silver moonlight coming through the staircase’s window. 

“You’re the best mate a bloke can ask for.” Sirius says, but something about it seems wrong and insincere, like an unfinished statement hanging in the air, waiting to be grabbed and fulfilled. 

“I’ve been told.” Remus replies, and opens the door victoriously, stepping aside to let Sirius go in first. Sirius pauses, leaning in the door frame.

“A gentleman, you are, Moony.”

“How much good has it done, really?” he growls, “Maybe I oughta be a tosser, like you.”

Sirius gasps in mock horror. It is his favorite thing to do around Remus, finding it enjoyable to watch his friend stammer and try to come up with an apologetic comment. “That’s absolutely insulting.” he says.

“That was my intention.”

Sirius grins. “Oh, filthy mushed Moony again.”

Remus shoves him inside, and follows him with gracious steps. He then switches the light on, throws his coat on the ground, and goes straight to his bedroom. “‘M too tired for this Rubbish, Pads.” he says, “Happy birthday again.” and then the door is shut behind him.

Sirius just stands there, bewildered, and wonders how he has managed to turn a joyful night into  _ something _ he can feel a total arse about.

He’s talented, if nothing else.

///

“Peter just ringed.” Remus tells him when he comes out of his room, and he really can’t give a tiniest rat’s arse about Peter in the moment.

“So?” he asks nonetheless, because it is Remus who is talking, and Sirius has never wanted to stop talking to him. Also, he still doesn’t know if they’re completely alright since his birthday two nights ago, so he decides not to push his luck.

“ _ So _ , the girlfriend wants to meet his friends, and he asked us to go with the two of them. Tonight.”

Sirius grunts in annoyance. “Why can’t he take James and Lily? I’m not really the bloke strangers like to get to know.”

“Stop with the self deprecating for a moment, Sirius, will you?” Remus bites back, and Sirius can’t help but smile a bit, “He said he doesn’t want to give her unrealistic expectations of a relationship by introducing her to them.” 

“That’s actually smart of him. Getting her to meet with the two single blokes first, one of whom is  _ me _ -”

“Yeah, about that;” Remus cuts in, apologetically, “he asked - and I quote- that you ‘don’t tie your hair in a sodding man bun, because he can’t really compete with that’.”

Sirius grins in spite of himself. “I’m starting to like Wormy, but it’s still a lot of work-”

Remus interrupts again. “He also mentioned that you can take your bike to his mum’s house and fix it there. Said she’d be delighted.”

Sirius barks out a laugh. “Right buttons he is pushing, really.” he smirks, “let’s get ready then.”

  
  


Three hours later, Sirius is having a fag right outside the pub, and then there are two figures approaching, almost the same height, but one obviously thinner. He squishes the cigarette butt under his boot and nervously peeks through the window, searching for Remus, but doesn’t find him.

The figures are now ten feet from him, and he can make out Peter, dressed in a fancy  _ suit _ , visibly shuddering in the cold winter wind. The other is a blonde girl, wearing a long cream coat on a maroon dress, and with all honesty, she looks like a model. Peter, the lucky git.

“Hello!” she says when they reach him, and before he has a chance to reply, she is shaking his hand. “You must be Remus.”

He smiles. “I’m Sirius, actually.” he draws his hand back when he sees Peter eye it, and then his loose black hair, nervously.

“Oh, yes. Peter said that you were a really serious person. All into books and things. You study literature, don’t you?”

Both him and Peter stare at her, with their mouths gaping open, and before they can correct her, Remus comes running out of the pub’s door, breathing rapidly.

“Oh hello. Sorry, sorry, I’m late.”

The girl -Susan, was she?- is now holding Remus’s hand, her fingers closed around his wrist. What is she trying to do, take his pulse to make sure he isn’t a zombie? Sirius wouldn’t really put it past her, tough. 

“You must be the boyfriend then. Sirius, was it?” 

Remus looks between Sirius and Peter, astonished, politely trying to come up with an answer to a statement he seemingly can’t understand.

Sirius throws his head back and laughs.

This will be an interesting night.

  
  


“I reckon we had to just tell her we were together and be done with it. She came up with a tosh load of reasons for why we looked like a couple.” Sirius says, opening the door of the fridge and examining the inside of it. Even after their night of drinking, he feels like he needs a beer.

“She was pretty set on it, that’s true.” Remus nods in agreement and tugs the opened beer from Sirius’s hand. 

“Hey! I was going to drink that! And since when are you all on getting pissed, mister Moony?”

Remus throws himself into the kitchen chair and sighs. “Since meeting with Wormtail’s obsessive girlfriend.”

Sirius can’t help but laugh at Remus’s desperate expression. “She must be somethin’ else if she’s gotten on  _ your _ nerves of all people, I’ll tell you that.”

“I was trying counting backwards by 7 from 1000 near the end of it. She also had a barmy fixation on the apparent link between your long hair and queerness.”

Suddenly, Sirius’s heartbeat quickens. He is not sure why he’s never tried to tell Remus; he’s not even sure if he’s ever wanted to at all, but in that moment, both of them squiffy and warm in their flat’s kitchen, he decides it is time. An opportunity has represented itself, and he decides to seize the moment while it lasts, swallowing his gulp of the beer swiftly, “She’s not wrong, you know.”

Remus immediately glances up from the table and into Sirius’s eyes. “What?” he asks, and looks as if Sirius has grown a second nose on his face.

“I’m queer.” Sirius says, trying his best to sound nonchalant. In reality, his palms start to sweat at the same rate his stomach churns. “James knew. Thought you did too.”

Remus blinks, and slowly shakes his head no. “No, I didn’t.” 

Sirius detects a hint of disappointment in his friend’s voice and thinks there is a good chance he might have a stroke. “Is it alright?” he asks, and doesn’t know what to do if the answer is no.

Apparently, Remus has guessed Sirius’s line of thoughts, as he shakes his hands violently and his eyes go wide. “Shite. Yes, of course it’s alright! I wasn’t disappointed because of that, Jesus,” he says, panic slowly disappearing from his voice, “I just felt a bit upset that you never thought to tell me, but you did James-”

Sirius feels his skin cool down immediately. “I didn’t think you’d really care, and besides, I wasn’t really planning on telling James or anything, the tosser bluffed me into confessing, really.” he says, and Remus laughs with affection.

“That’s exactly like him.”

“Innt?”

Remus nods, a small chuckle escaping his lips. After a short minute, the room falls silent again, and Sirius can’t take his gaze away from his friend who is now chewing on his colorless lip; Remembering how Remus gets on his back whenever he does the same, Sirius realizes he is about to say something. Yet, he seems to be losing an intense battle going on inside his mind, so Sirius does what he does best to help.

“What?” he pushes, and Remus immediately looks caught.

“What?” he replies back with fake innocence nonetheless, and Sirius snorts.

“You’re tryna say something. Spit it out, go on.”

Remus closes his eyes briefly before melting further into his chair, and sighs in defeat. “It’s always a damp squib, hiding things from ya; you’re like a dog that keeps diggin’ until he finds the bone.”

“That is really common knowledge, Moony. Now fess up.”

For a moment Sirius wonders if it is really a good idea to haul what seems to be a difficult subject out of his friend, but then curiosity overcomes him and he leans closer to the other guy, trying his best not to blink too much. Remus rubs the space between his tangled eyebrows and exhales sharply. “I’m into blokes, too.” he says, dryly.

“Oh,” Sirius says, not having quite expected Remus’s confession to be that, and grins, “If it ain’t the queerland here, then. We oughta start painting the walls rainbow.”

“You’re a git.” Remus laughs, clearly relieved, and Sirius needs to correct and question him about a few things.

“I’m not just into blokes, though, I think I’m even more into birds, but I can’t say I haven’t noticed a fit bloke every now and then. Haven’t really done anything about it, however.” he explains, chewing on the ends of his hair tangled around his fingers, and Remus slaps his hand away.

“Bloody disgusting.” he mumbles, and Sirius grins.

“Don’t change the subject now, Moony. So, tell me about  _ you _ , then.”

Remus purposely stares at an ink spot on the wooden table, but when realizing Sirius isn’t going to give up, he sighs, and blinks rapidly. “Not into birds at all. Had a few things with a couple of blokes from school. Nothing after we graduated.”

“Isn’t this brilliant? Us sitting here and ranting about who we used to fancy?” Sirius barks out a laugh, watching Remus smile faintly, but it quickly fades. “I also had a feeling you were queer.” he confesses, because why not?

Remus’s head spins so quickly, Sirius thinks it might snap off. “How? And I swear to God, if you say from the Cardigans, Sirius, I will-”

“No!” he cuts in, shaking with laughter. “I wasn’t going to say that.” he shrugs dismissively, “I guess it just takes one to know one, right?”

“Right.” Remus says, his body slowly relaxing. “Right.”

There is an uncomfortable silence set between them then, and Sirius feels terrified. They are still somewhat on thin ice, and he can’t afford to cock up another time. He desperately searches his mind for something to tell - _ anything _ \- and when he opens his mouth to speak, he learns the valuable lesson that alcohol and desperation don’t really go well.

“How about I go buy the paint, then?”

Yes. He is absolutely mental. And daft. How can he not be, when  _ these _ things come out of his mouth while he’s trying to be subtle and non-offensive. But then-

“We gotta consult with Wormtail’s girlfriend first. She seems to be the expert.”

Remus is grinning at him, widely, and Sirius can’t do anything but laugh.

Oh the mystery that is Remus John Lupin.

///

James practically yanks him out of the door of Peter’s mother’s house by the hood of the sweatshirt he’s wearing, and Sirius barely has time to say goodbye to her before he is shoved inside Jame’s car.

“What the bloody hell?” he punches James with all his force, and he, as if made from stone, doesn’t even flinch.

“We’re going for a ride.” he says, excitedly, and Sirius’s blood runs cold.

“I remember the last time you said that mate,” he grumbles, “We ended up in a police station.” he then grins, remembering driving around town and tapping on random windows in reach and putting on a shite-dropping scary mask and sticking their faces to the glass. Best Halloween of his life. “Legendary night it was, though.” he laughs, resting his head on the back of his seat.

James nods eagerly. “Wasn’t it? And also, I have a license now.”

“Clearly a poor decision made by some pissed sod.” 

“Bugger off, will you?” James grunts. “There’s something I want to tell you, Pads.”

Sirius smirks. “If it’s that you’ve shagged Lily, you’ve already told us. Although we have a hard time believing it, she seems to confirm you, so that’s that.”

“That’s not it.” he says, “It’s relevant however. Come to think of it again, I think it’s actually the same thing as me telling you guys I’ve shagged her.”

“What?” Sirius asks, dumbfounded. He must be getting old; it was a lot easier understanding James when they’d been younger.

“She’s pregnant!” James suddenly exclaims, and almost hits a bin. Sirius spins his head and looks at him in disbelief.

“She’s pregnant?”

“Yes!” James shrieks, “We didn’t mean it to- never mind that;” he blushes, “I’m having a kid! A real kid, a small human being.”

“I know what a kid is, Prongs.” Sirius snaps, “But congratulations! The poor kid’s really unlucky to have your barmy arse as a father, but then, what can we do?” he laughs, “No really, congratulations, man.” he says the last part softly, patting James on the back.

James is glowing with happiness. “Thanks, mate.” He then turns almost three feet too soon, throwing them both to the right. His head pounds against the window, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. “The poor kid’s about to get unluckier though.”

“Huh?”

“Lily and I want you to be the godfather.”

A vast range of emotions wash through Sirius -pride, joy, excitement, yearning, fear- but most of all, a dull ache, at the center of his heart, somewhere he knows is an empty void he has no idea how to fill.

“Prongs-”

James breaks in. “Can’t really be surprised, can you? You’re like my brother. There’d be no one else but you.”

A lump forms in Sirius’s throat instantly, from bittersweet joy and also guilt. He is pathetic, really. He is pathetic. “You’re like my brother as well, Prongs.” he forces out a smile, “we’ve breathed each other’s farts, mate.” he then laughs, a bit more genuine, “And I’d be honored. Of course I’ll be your child’s godfather. I already love the kid more than life.” he says, and is relieved to realize he means it.

James beams at him. “Brilliant, then.”

The things a heart can feel all at once.

  
  


He comes out of his room at sunset, greeted by an image of Remus reading a book thick as his own slim -but still, not slim enough for a  _ book _ \- arm

“I talked to James today.” he announces, biting on his nails. 

Remus makes an uninterested humming sound. “Okay.”

“Lily’s pregnant.”

Remus’s hand suddenly brushes against the mug next to him on the couch’s handle and the black tea inside it spills all over the floor. “Fuck;” he swears and quickly stands up, rushing to the kitchen, and returns with a wet towel. All the while, Sirius can only watch him with dry eyes and a funny feeling inside his throat.

“That- That’’s;” Remus stammers while rubbing the towel on the carpet absent-mindedly, not really getting the expanding stain.

“Soon.”

“No, not soon;” he pauses, “Unexpected.”

“Yeah.” Sirius agrees, tracking the movements of Remus’s long fingers as the guy throws the rag in a corner and stands up, walking towards Sirius in three long steps, leaning beside him against the living room wall.

“You alright?” he asks, and Sirius doesn’t answer. “Sirius?”

“He asked me to be his kid’s godfather.”

A huff of air tickles his neck and Sirius realizes that Remus has let out a hitched breath. “That’s not really a surprise, Pads. You’re his best mate.” he says, his smile warm in the room’s golden light.

Sirius drags his boot covered foot on the floor and shakes his head. “No, you don’t get it. He asked me, Sirius Black, to be his child’s godfather, Remus.” he repeats and is met with a confused glare from the other man.

“What-” 

“My best mate’s having a kid,” he interrupts, “We’re turning twenty two and my best mate’s having a kid,” he laughs bitterly, “And I’m still the unloved, unemployed, fucking Sirius Black. The Black house’s run-away, the source of shame to my family-”

“Sirius;”

“- the good for nothing Sirius Black.”

“You’re not.”

Sirius sniggers sharply. “What? Unemployed? A disgrace? Good for nothing?”

“Unloved.”

“Lemme tell you, Moony, being loved by Mrs. Potter is not exactly what I’ve been hoping for-”

Remus interrupts him nervously. “Not her, Sirius.” he says, swallowing hard, “Me.”

To Sirius’s ears, the world suddenly goes quiet, except for the sound of Remus’s shallow breathing and his own heart pounding in his chest with such force, he feels like it might rip the skin apart and fall in front of his feet. He opens his mouth to say something, but instead inhales deeply, supplying his brain with the oxygen it seems to need to process the new information.

“What?” he finally manages to mumble and for a second he thinks Remus might not have heard him, but then the other man’s face goes completely white and he slides a foot further away from Sirius.

“Fuck;” Remus mutters, and runs a hand through his hair. “That’s not how I bloody wanted to tell you. Blimey, I don’t even know if I wanted to tell you at all;”

“Remus,” Sirius cuts in, “Please. Just;” he stammers, feeling like he’s lost the ability to form functioning sentences, “Since- Since when?”

Remus looks on the verge of tears as he wrings his hands in front of his stomach and makes a choking sound. “Since we were fourteen, I guess?” he says, and when he sees Sirius’s mouth gaping open, his body shakes tremendously. “I thought I only fancied you a bit back then, but then I didn’t get a mark and then;”

Suddenly, Sirius’s face feels inflamed, as though he has been slapped. “Your mark?” he asks, weakly, and Remus nods.

“When I didn’t get it, I knew I was in deep; it made me certain. I’d been way past only fancying you, apparently.”

“You- you’re saying-” Sirius stutters and swears under his breath, “ -that you didn’t get it because you were-” he pauses, seemingly not able to say the words, and as always, Remus comes to his rescue.

“Because I was in love with  _ you _ .” he concludes, closing his eyes.

After hearing the words come out of Remus’s mouth, for the first time, Sirius fully understands how real they are. A heavy sensation of panic consumes his being, paralyzing his mind and lungs, taking away his ability to speak. His stomach churns, and then his chest follows, going for the win. 

“Sirius?” Remus’s brittle voice cuts the tensions in the room and Sirius’s inside, pulling him into a temporary state of awareness. He knows he needs to control the damage before it is beyond help; yet all he wants to do is to ask, to fill the gaps in his knowledge with answers he knows will cause Remus extreme pain to grant him. 

“Are you sure?” he questions, almost with cruelty, and Remus openly whimpers.

“Believe me, Sirius, there’d been times I wished I wasn’t sure.” he says with such agony that for a moment Sirius wishes he could die and never hear that in his friend’s voice again.

“Why?” he blurts out before he can stop himself, and Remus’s frown is so familiar and heart-warming that Sirius forgets the heaviness of the situation briefly.

“Why do I love you, Sirius? Is now the time for this, really? Because I can't-" he suddenly stumbles on his feet, and Sirius quickly grabs the nearest chair - a short, wooden stool- and slides it under his friend's bending figure.

"Sit down, mate. Lemme get you a glass of water." He says, and Remus obeys, sitting on the chair with his hands covering his face.

Before he can think about the process, Sirius runs to the kitchen and fills the first container he can grab with cold water, and brings it to Remus with trembling hands.

"Go on. Drink some."

Remus takes a huge gulp and smiles weakly. "Not exactly a glass now, is it?" He says, raising the formerly pickle jar as proof.

"You were going to bloody faint, Moony. What was I to do? Fetch you an engraved goblet?"

They both laugh, and then silence envelopes them again. Sirius’s mind is buzzing with thoughts and concerns, changes they have to make, arrangements even, but then he glances down at Remus and feels utterly desolated. The man is staring at somewhere Sirius can’t see with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open and his lips almost the same color as his white teeth. He rocks back and forth in his seat with such force Sirius is scared he might fall face down to the floor. It’s an image Sirius knows he will have a hard time forgetting - if ever. 

“Remus?” he whispers, cautiously, but Remus doesn’t look away from the spot his eyes are glued on, and just makes a humming sound.

“You alright, mate?” Sirius tries again, mentally considering leaving him alone, but that is not who he is. He really is a prying dog in ways, he realizes.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Remus mumbles. He then turns his face away, hugging himself tightly to stop the shivering of his body, Sirius thinks, and there is nothing more heartbreaking he can remember witnessing. He decides it can’t go on like that anymore, and kneels in front of his friend on the itching carpet.  _ How bad can it be? _ When after a minute Remus spins his head around, however, Sirius gets his answer: drastically bad.

In the ten years they’ve known each other, Sirius has never seen Remus ever actually cry. At worst, it had been blurry eyes and slightly damp cheeks, and they haven't done anything to prepare Sirius for the scene in front of him; Remus with swollen eyes, his face so pale it can easily be a part of the wall behind it, and the unmistakable faint blueness in his lips that indicates he hasn't been breathing properly.

“Fuck, Moony:” he roars, “lemme get your meds;”

“I’m fine.” Remus cuts in, and  _ his arse _ , he is fine. Sirius isn’t sure whether to yell at him or carry him forcefully into bed, and after a few moments, he decides to do just in between. 

“Let’s get you to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.” 

“But-”

“Bed, Moony. Now.” he says, firmly, and doesn’t ask for permission before gently pulling Remus up by his shoulders and locking an arm around his waist. Remus lets Sirius lead him to the second bedroom down the hall and he opens the door, revealing a smaller version of a national library. Sirius stumbles through the books on the floor and swears quietly, trying his best not to fall and drag Remus down with him. When he finally helps Remus into bed, the guy clutches to him hopelessly, as if Sirius will disappear if he loses his grip, and Sirius’s heart jolts in agony.

“Will you be here tomorrow morning?” he slowly asks, his hazel eyes begging.

Will he be there the next morning? The question somehow seems deeper than it shows on the surface, heavy with demands for promises Sirius isn’t sure he can make. But then he gazes at Remus -the always patient, collected Remus- shivering as if his body will never meet warmth again, and he bends down and pulls the blanket up to the guy’s neck, his fingers lingering on the exposed skin there a moment longer than necessary, and smiles calmingly. “‘Course, mate. Go to sleep.”

“Thanks.” he whispers, and instantly falls asleep.

Sirius turns the lights off and silently closes the door, leaving it ajar so he can check on Remus through the night. 

The living room now seems too huge, yet somehow it is suffocating him. He picks up the pickle jar and puts it on the counter and then opens the door to their small balcony; Before locking himself in the cramped space, he grabs a half empty packet of cigarettes and lights one, letting the smoke out with heavy sighs.

Remus. The always present and willing to help Remus. The same Remus he used to tickle into crying, the boy that wears cardigans non-ironically but also has a thing for guns. The Remus he feels responsible for, yet always ends up taking care of Sirius instead. His best friend, Remus, loves him. The thought fills him with horror and also pride, a combination he really isn’t too keen on carrying around. 

He goes back in when his fingers are too frozen to light the cigarettes, and paces around the room aimlessly. He puts a few things in their right places -oh, the world is coming to an end-, chews on his fingernails and tosses his phone aside when he can’t decide what to write to James, draws a picture of himself hanging to death on a napkin, and then uses it to dry his sweaty neck.

He peeks through the almost closed door of Remus’s bedroom four times during the night, each time finding him fast asleep, and the last time, he lets himself watch the man’s soft features as he lightly snores. The moonlight shines on his forehead, and from the way it reflects it, Sirius realizes that Remus’s face is damp with sweat. He fights the urge to go in and wipe it with a towel, knowing that he will risk waking Remus up if he does so, and he isn’t ready for that yet.

One cigarette turns into two and then fifteen, and with the twilight sun slowly painting the sky red, Sirius still hasn’t come to a decision, but there is no use in postponing whatever is going to happen, so he opens the balcony’s door and steps inside the flat. He is too nervous to eat, yet he finds his way to the kitchen, and arranges the contents of their fridge on the counter in a heartbeat. He uses all of them and makes so much breakfast it can feed a small group of starved to death people, and even though he knows money is tight, he can’t really care. The pile of food grows as his nerves calm down, and when Remus finally walks into the small room, Sirius has just finished making grilled tomatoes. 

The other guy is in pajamas as dark as the circles around his eyes with stripes as white as his chapped lips. Everything about him screams nightmares, even though he hadn’t even made a peep last night, and Sirius wonders if Remus is contained even in his sleep. 

“What the bloody hell?” Remus asks, his mouth gaping open, and takes a seat behind the grazing table.

Sirius laughs humorlessly, and loads a rather big plate with a large amount of anything he has cooked. “Good morning.”

“Yeah, good morning,” Remus replies, suspiciously, “what’s all this for?”

“Wanted to do somethin’ nice for you.” the nonchalance in his voice is so forced, he’ll be genuinely surprised if Remus doesn’t catch on to it.

“Sirius?”

_ There it is. _

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, and curses himself for not having prepared anything. What sort of a daft cow does this before coming up with a speech? What is  _ this _ , anyway?

“Yes?” Remus urges him on, and Sirius swallows stridently.

“I think we oughta try this. Casually, you know.” he says, motioning his hand between their chests. For fuck’s sake, how did James make this look like a piece of cake, he’ll never know.

Remus, much to his surprise, doesn’t look baffled or even mildly fazed. He shakes his head in what could only be disappointment, and pushes his plate away, standing quickly. “This is low, Sirius.”

Sirius doesn’t know what he’d expected, but  _ this  _ surely hadn’t been it. “What?” he asks, astonished, and Remus shakes his head again.

“I didn’t ask you to do this.”

“What? Make breakfast?”

Remus huffs loudly, his jaw jutted forward. “Don’t play daft with me. I didn’t ask you to  _ settle  _ for me, Sirius.”

Sirius feels as though he’s been punched in the gut. “Settle for you? What the actual fuck? Are you mad?”

“Well now, am I? Aren’t you the one who has decided he wants to go for the gangling little kid who hasn’t been able to shake his feelings for his best friend?” Remus furiously snaps back.

The monster in Sirius’s chest awakens and claws to the insides of his chest, demanding a vile response to boil out of the space and find its way to his tongue. He somehow restrains it, giving Remus a toothless smile. “And when did I give that indication, exactly? That I’m  _ settling _ for you?”

“When it took you not sleeping for hours and a many,  _ many _ fags to be able to talk yourself into asking me for a relationship - or as you so delicately put it,  _ a casual thing _ .” Remus almost roars, drops of spit jumping out of his mouth when he utters the last word.

“Why did you tell me then?” Sirius snaps, “that you have feelings for me? When you won’t even let me say I’m fine with something happening between us?”

Oh, if looks could kill, Remus’s would’ve carved him into pieces. For the first time in their lives, Sirius realizes how taller than him Remus is, and how he can give Sirius a slow-healing bruise even though he’s lanky and slim. “Have you ever tried carrying a feeling around, Sirius?” he demands, and Sirius flinches, because he doesn’t even have time to breathe before Remus continues, “of course not. Because you get it all out of your chest the  _ minute _ it nests there, and you don’t see any worthy way of living but yours.” 

“What-”

“I wanted the weight off, Sirius. Seven years is an agonizingly long time, and I don’t wish it for anyone. It ruts your inside; not being able to pour it out.”

“Look-”

Remus’s hand on his mouth almost shoves him to the stove. “Bugger off for a minute, will you?” he shouts, and if it weren’t for the sweat on his palm wetting Sirius’s lips, he would’ve thought this is not real. “You expect me to bear your whole goddamn baggage, don’t you? Am I wrong? Don’t you want me to have enough faith that it fills the holes that are there because of your doubts? Don’t you?” The last part doesn’t sound like a question, but a command for admission of defeat, and Sirius is too stubborn for that. He slaps the hand away, and pushes Remus so hard, he ends up having to take a hold of the fridge to stop himself from collapsing to the ground. His hazel eyes widen, and his mouth gapes open.

“You’re just a fucking coward, that’s it. Don’t make it poetic, you obnoxious arsehole. An English degree doesn’t give you the right to do that.” Sirius spits out, ruthlessly, “You’ve been like that our whole sodding lives. You’ve just escaped into  _ any _ story you can to avoid having to live your own.”

“So  _ I _ ’m the arsehole because I refuse to be your consolation prize? I’m not desperate for you, you know. I’ve been keeping it in for years, I’ve gotten brilliant at it. I’ll just do that till-” Remus stops then, nervously glancing at Sirius.

Sirius’s blood runs cold. He knows what Remus was about to say before his timely halt, and it hurts more than it should. Can you want something you’ve only had for a few hours? He feels selfish for being disappointed at the thought of Remus moving on; he has every right to do so when Sirius hasn’t offered anything real, but the idea of Remus detaching himself from Sirius frightens him; it is hard to be loved as only a friend when he has tasted the apparent flavor of being loved more than anybody else. 

“How about you start now, then?” he hisses, tears swelling up in his eyes, and blinks rapidly to prevent them from falling. “I don’t know what I can do to stop you.”

“Why would you stop me?” Remus quietly asks, and well, Sirius has nothing remotely close to an answer that won’t paint him as petty and cruel.

“I’m going out for a fag.” he says instead.

“Wait-”

But he doesn’t, because if he lets the answer he wants to give come out of his mouth, there is no going back.

_ Because I’m enjoying being in the center of your heart more than I should. _

The door slams shut behind him.

  
  


It rains so hard, he finally has to give up the isolated corner he has formed a bond with and go back to flat. For the first hour, it has been nothing but angrily going through a full packet of newly bought cigarettes and imagining Remus’s horrified face when counting how many years of his life they will steal away. The next two Sirius spends on listening to all the Elliott Smith’s tracks he can find, and whistles with them to the point of earning an irritated look from the paper shop owner watching him, and he stops. Then he is surprised by harsh drops of rain falling on his bared head, and doesn’t bother covering it by his hand, but only stands there, until he is soaking wet and his clothes are clinging to his shivering body; he then decides he can probably avoid Remus for as long as he needs  _ in the flat _ and goes back, accompanied by only the sound of rain on metal awnings and his own heartbeat in his throat. 

He smells tea the minute he opens the door, and well, what was he expecting? Brandy? Cuban cigars? Remus has his own way of dealing with distress, and fascinatingly enough, it is Earl Grey and getting lost between the lines of a story that is not his.

Sirius walks into the kitchen and sees all the food stored in containers resting on the counter. Remus is chewing on a small piece of chocolate -another means of relaxation for him- and raises his head when he hears Sirius’s heavy footsteps, greeting him with a half nod.

“Hey.” he says, casually, and thank God.

“Hey.” Sirius answers, fetching himself a beer, and slowly spins around to leave, when he is stopped by Remus’s once again collected voice.

“Wait, Sirius. We have to talk.”

Sirius’s hopes of avoidance go up in flames, but before he has to give in to an inevitable conversation that will most likely end their friendship, his phone rings, and the phrase ‘saved by the ring’ can have his apologies for being called a cliche. He fishes the vibrating phone out of his damp pocket, and with a look at its screen, Sirius takes the thought back. The name ‘Regulus’ shines in white on the Black background, insistently flashing at him in mock. 

“Who is it?” Remus asks, impatiently, and Sirius has to swallow before he can answer.

“Regulus.” he says, his mouth dry. His brother hasn’t rang him on the phone in a year and a half, and it can’t really be a good sign that he’s started now.

“Answer it then!” Remus orders, and Sirius does.

“Thought I’d gotten rid of all the dark magic when I burnt your letter, Reg.” he hisses, and waits for his brother’s haughty voice, but instead a drawn out whimper comes from the other side of the line, and Sirius’s heart drops to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

Remus stands up immediately and puts his ear against Sirius’s phone. Regulus’s muffled words come through in between short sobs. “Dad’s in hospital. He’s dying, Sirius.” he cries out, and for the first time in his life, Sirius is shaken up by a wave of concern for his father.

“What? How?” he asks, weakly, and Regulus sobs again. “For fuck’s sake, Reg, pull your shite together.” he barks out, and Remus wags his head in disapproval.

“He got hit by a car. In Chelsea, I think.”

“I don’t need the fucking neighbourhood he got hit in, Regulus. Which hospital are you at?” he roars, and holds his phone out of Remus’s reach. “Fine, got it.” 

He hangs up before his brother can make another sound resembling a dying cat, and scurries out the kitchen, snatching his coat from the back of a chair in the living room.

“Where’s he admitted?” Remus asks him hastily, as he puts his own coat on.

He growls. “Where do you think? Knightsbridge, of course. The old sod has to be posh even in death.”

“You don’t know that he’s-”

“He must be, or Regulus wouldn’t have called me.” he says, indifferently, and knows it is true. “I’m going then.” he opens the door, and Remus looks at him like he’s gone mad.

“I’m coming with you, of course.” he points at his own clothes, and Sirius doesn’t have the energy to argue, so he lets him tag along.

They get out of the taxi roughly twenty minutes later, and Sirius doesn't wait for Remus to pay the driver and rushes inside, bumping into his brother shortly after in an empty corridor. Without meaning to, he looks him up and down, and is baffled by how much he’s changed in the past two years. His usually thick hair is tangled and the corners of his lips are scabbed, as if he’s chewed on them for a long time. A small scar on his chin attracts Sirius’s attention, because he doesn’t remember it being there the last time they’d seen each other. All and all, he looks nothing like the posh kid Sirius used to know, but rather an aged, traumatized man. 

“What the hell’s happened to you?” he asks before he can stop himself, and Regulus stares at him with wide eyes.

“Sirius.” he says, croakily, and clutches to him tightly. “He’s in the ICU. Let’s go.”

“Remus-”

“Lord, Sirius, he’ll find his own way. Come on then.” he snaps, and leads him through a number of halls smelling strongly of alcohol and disinfectants, and they are going so fast that Sirius doesn’t have the time to mentally prepare himself before he is face to face with his mother.

The woman -or old witch, if you’d rather- is standing in front of the glass doors, looking absolutely disgusted. Sirius remembers the expression very well, having been the recipient of it numerous times, and doesn’t bother to exchange pleasantries when she raises her head and looks him directly in the eye, her glance burning holes in his soul..

“He doesn’t want you on his bedside, Sirius.” she states, flatly, her thin lips quivering slightly when Remus finally arrives beside Sirius.

“Well, mother, I’ve never given a toss about what you and father want from me, so why start now?” he bites back, and feels Remus go tense behind him. “I’m going in.”

Without looking back, he hints at a nurse, and is dressed in a blue gown in no time, pushing his hair under a tight cap. The room has four large beds -leave it to his dad to die in a place that has a bed bigger than his own at home- and two of them are occupied. One by a girl so young Sirius isn’t sure she can write her own name, and the other one by his dad, concealed by bandages and tubes all around him. He searches for a lump in his throat, or an urgency to cry, or do anything close, really, but can’t find one. Some wounds never heal, apparently, no matter how close death or loss might be.

He steps closer with no rush, because what does he have to say to a dying alcoholic that beat him all through his childhood, really? He has said his goodbye years ago and has never looked back, and is not entirely sure why he is here. Just when he decides to go back, he is stopped by a half whimper, and when it doesn’t repeat, he thinks he’s imagined it, and turns to leave.

“Sirius.” it is unmistakable this time, and he spins on his heels and glances at his father’s bed. His bandaged hand is raised slightly, and is motioning for Sirius to go closer.

“Yes.” he replies, blandly, and walks towards it in two long steps. “It’s me.”

A pair of gray eyes stare at him intensely, so similar to his own they send faint shivers down his spine. It is horrible to see a piece of yourself in what you loath, and here he stands, looking at the reason for his being, wishing with his whole heart that they aren’t the same.

His father’s lips don’t even tremble a bit. “You’re a disgrace, Sirius. I will never forgive you.”

His whole body goes numb, and an unwanted chuckle escapes his mouth. “Yes, I am aware of that. Wasn’t really looking for it, to be honest.”

Orion Black’s silvery eyes fix on Sirius’s, father and son engaging in a silent battle, and with a jerk, Sirius steps back. He will not let this man take the last bit of dignity left in their relationship to grave with him.

“I hope you go in peace, father.” he says, and with one last look to the man’s feature, leaves the room.

Remus immediately comes to his side, but Sirius can’t -and doesn’t want to- speak, lack of sleep and hunger getting to him after the long,  _ long _ , day. He is in desperate need for a fag, and to not see his mother’s face for at least another two years..

Remus follows him outside like a lost poppy, and lights the cigarette Sirius puts between his own lips, watching him in silence for so long, it is unusual for Remus. Yet Sirius appreciates it, he doesn’t think he can engage in any sort of conversation.

It isn’t long before Regulus comes out the main hospital door and throws himself in Sirius’s arms and suddenly, Sirius is eleven again, and is comforting Regulus because of something hurtful their dad has done. He pats his brother’s back awkwardly, and watches Remus suppress a muffled laughter and silently flips him off. 

“He’s gone.” Regulus says, futilely, and Sirius doesn’t break the hug.

“I know, Reg.”

“What did he say to you?” he asks.

Sirius shrugs, and sees Remus watch him closely. “Nothing. You know how sweet dad could be.”

“Sirius,”

He breaks in. “I haven’t slept in a whole day, Regulus. ‘M knackered. Oughta go back to my flat to sleep.” he pulls back, leaving a trembling Regulus behind, and goes to the street to take a taxi. Remus barely gets in before Sirius shuts the door of the car, and cautiously reaches for his hand.

“‘M fine.” he barks out, and Remus quickly takes his hand off, melting into his seat.

They don’t talk for the rest of the ride, or when Remus unlocks the entrance to their flat, or when Sirius slams the door behind him while going into his room.

He throws himself on the bed, and angrily cries until he falls asleep.

///

Despite Regulus’s constant insistence, Sirius doesn’t go to the funeral. His friends know better than to push him into it, and he is grateful about it. The weight of their compassion crushes him however, and he snaps when even Peter won’t stop gingerly trying to make him feel better by bringing him food. 

_ “My mother made this and there were left overs…” _

_ “In the shape of a perfectly untouched batch of lasagna, Wormy?” _

James suggests pubs, video games, even a road trip, and Sirius brushes him off gently; does the same to Lily when she calls at least twice a day at hours she knows Remus won't be home, and fakes a great deal of surprise each time Sirius picks up.  _ Isn’t Remus home? Oh, alright then. How are  _ you  _ doing?  _ He hangs up by the sixth time.

He doesn’t see Remus much, and knows that he is purposely avoiding him, and can’t really be bothered by it. With everything going on, he isn’t too keen on picking up where they’ve left off in their last conversation. Even without his father dying and his estranged brother trying to get back in touch with him, Sirius can barely handle a discussion about his motives for telling Remus they can try a casual relationship together - not that he even knows them himself. He has a lingering feeling that with that particular conversation, their friendship might very well come to an end, and he’s not ready for that. So he lets the other man wander around the apartment when he locks himself in his room and spends hours and hours smoking and drawing and playing sad songs on his guitar.

The time he devotes to working on the bike is the only part of his day he doesn’t just tolerate, and he loses himself in gears, tyres, and anything he can afford to buy with the little money he has left. Peter’s mother brings him a glass of orange juice every hour and rubs his back kindly, and on the back of his mind, he bitterly thinks about how his own mother won’t comfort him, but someone else’s will.

Nights don’t pass easily at all. Despite Remus’s sulkiness with him, Sirius peeks through his bedroom door any night it’s not shut, and watches him sleep, pushing the thought that he is acting like a barmy stalker to the back of his mind. In the ten days he hovers outside Remus’s room at night, he discovers that his friend snores, mumbles in his sleep, tosses and turns like a mad man, and kicks the blankets off himself, no matter how cold it is.

Sirius has finally given up on finding a name for the clutch on his throat whenever he thinks about the inevitability of Remus leaving him, because with every passing hour, the possibility becomes stronger and his fate more doomed. There is no chance Remus will accept an offer Sirius has thrown him in a moment of panic and exhaustion; he is too proud for that (and rightfully so). Sirius wants to crawl into a hole and die each time he thinks about life without Remus in it, and he forces himself to deem it ordinary whenever a part of him questions the normalcy of it, because he thinks he’ll go mad if he has to ponder the idea of his world changing drastically.

  
  


It takes Lily a week and a half of being the recipient of Sirius's continuous blow offs to show up unannounced on his flat’s door and bang on it godlessly.

“Bugger off!” he yells, but the violent knocking continues, and he growls, throwing his magazine on the floor, and opens the door so abruptly, Lily’s fist ends up hitting his jaw.

“What the bloody hell?” he groans, and Lily pushes him aside.

“Why won’t you let us help you?” she says, not looking one bit apologetic, and Sirius knows a storm is coming when a vein in her neck starts throbbing. She throws her handbag on a chair and goes into the kitchen and fetches a cup of tea for herself, and all the while, Sirius can only watch her with his mouth open like a frog catching a fly.

With blokes, it’s not really that hard. Sirius can shove James out of the door or smack Peter on the head, but there is no doing that with a bird - a pregnant bird, at that. So he lets her pace around the room and toss a few of his things in the bin, not really having another option. Suddenly, she throws what seems to be a half eaten apple at him, and if his head has been her target, her aim is really perfect. “I can’t have my kid have a tosser as a godfather, you know.” she tells him.

“You should’ve picked Remus then.” he examines the object more closely, and he was wrong. It’s actually the remainder of a sandwich. 

She chooses the biggest couch, sitting on it with her hand on her still flat stomach, and he smiles to himself when he sits beside her.

“Don’t be sly with me, Sirius. You’ve made a real hash of things.” she says.

He smirks. “That’s right, but I’ve got a feeling that you have a certain thing in mind.”

She smacks him right on the place the sandwich had hit him, and he’d be daft to think that it hasn’t been her intention. “You treat all of us like rubbish.” she accuses him, and he can’t really defend himself.

“Sorry.” he says, but Lily waves him off.

“I’m not the one you should apologize to, Sirius.” she says, and he knows who she means before she even opens her mouth to continue, “Remus can use one, though.”

His palms start sweating and he rubs them on his trousers. “You know then?”

She nods quickly, and her voice raises a pitch when she starts speaking again. “You can’t really be surprised. He’s my friend.”

“Does James know too?” he swallows, and she slowly laughs.

“Your mate doesn’t know yet, no.” she smiles at his relieved expression, “But I swear to god I’ll tell him if you don’t do somethin’ about it.”

With fingers splayed on his forehead, Sirius rubs his eyes so hard he thinks they might roll back into his skull. “I’ve done somethin’ about it.”

“Honestly, do you call that cock up ‘doing something’?”

“He thought I was settling for him. What can I do really?” He looks at her with hope, because she is the therapist they never ask for but always appreciate.

“Weren’t you though? Settling for him in some sort?”she asks, and leans in close enough that he can smell her fruity perfume. Peach, is it?

“Weren’t you?” she repeats when he tries to decide between peach and apple, pulling him out of probably the most pointless train of thoughts he’s ever had.

“I don’t know what I was bloody doing.” he confesses, and she looks satisfied.

“Yes, figured as much.”

He isn’t sure what to make out of this conversation anymore. Is she here to gloat? “A bit of help then?”

“Ah,” she rubs her hands together, “go fetch your notebook and I’ll show you.”

“What,”

“Do as you’re told for  _ once _ in your life, Black.”

His last name on her tongue is never a good sign, so he quickly stands up and goes to what is less his room and more a pigsty now, and grabs the blue notebook from under a few clothes. 

“Here.” he tosses it in her lap, and she yanks him down to sprawl beside her on the cushion. 

“I don’t need to see it, but you do.”

He snorts. “Are you mad? I’ve  _ drawn _ them, why do I need to see ‘em?”

She opens the notebook, and brushes her fingers on a page that has a picture of a tawny wolf splayed on it. “See?” she asks, and no, he doesn’t.

“What?” 

She exhales sharply in annoyance. “It’s a wolf, Sirius.”

“Stating the obvious now, are we?” he bites back, and as a reward, gets smacked again. James must have a hard life, he thinks.

“Remember why you call him Moony?” she softly says, tapping her fingers on the paper, and he nods, because he does.

_ “You’ve got moods every once in a month, Remus. It’s honestly brilliant.” James howls out, and Sirius tilts his head back and barks out a laugh. _

_ “His menses, probably.” he suggests, and James shakes his head thoughtfully. _

_ “Nah, my quid’s on that he’s a werewolf.” _

_ Sirius pulls Remus into a side hug, ignoring his protests, and grins. “Whatever it is, it’s oughta come out every month, right?” _

_ Peter and James both nod. _

_ “He’s  _ Moony  _ then.” he says, waiting for the applause, and surely, it comes. _

_ “Brilliant!” Peter exclaims, “Brilliant.” he shrieks again, and James’s clapping grows louder. _

_ Remus only growls. _

“Go through your drawings again, then.”

He slowly flips through the pages, pausing each time to get a good look at them, and something switches on in his brain.

Reflection of the moon in a vast lake. A gold and red scarf wrapped around a slim neck. Scarred fingers clutching to a steaming cup of tea. Wolves, wolves and wolves on different pages; some howling, some balled up in a forest, some sniffing a piece of chocolate, and one smiling at a big bear-like dog, both shining under the moonlight.

“Fuck.” he mutters, because  _ fuck _ indeed; for how blind he’s been, how daft, how oblivious.

Lily smiles, clearly finally satisfied, and wraps her arm around his shoulders. “Oh, and one other thing.” she whispers, "I don't have a clue why you didn't get your mark back when we were 16, but I know why you aren't getting it now, Sirius." she softly says and squeezes him, "So do you. Otherwise you'd have rummaged and turned the whole fucking universe upside down for a small hint, because that's who you are. The fact that you haven't is really saying something."

Everything suddenly seems more clear to him, as if he’s put on a pair of glasses and looked at the always blurry spots in front of him, only to have found them to be pieces of a life he’s never known existed. Every smile, every bizarre rush through his spine, sudden jolt of his heart, and unvivid tingling in his skin is now called for. The explanation is so simple, he doesn’t understand how he’s missed it. He’s in love; has been for some time now.

He can’t remember ever feeling so excited and frightened at the same time. There are butterflies in his stomach, pounding themselves to the walls of it, and if he could, he’d let them out and flew with them in the clear morning sky.

“I’ll let you get to your thoughts then.” Lily breaks the silence again, standing up, “But I better hear something I like, Sirius Black, or I’m comin’ for you.”

Before she goes out, Sirius looks at her, his eyes damp, and with every sincerity in the world, he says, “Thank you.”

She smiles, and closes the door.

He has work to do.

  
  


Remus comes home late that night, so late that Sirius can’t stop himself from falling asleep, and leaves very early in the morning, almost before dawn.

The next night, Sirius drinks two cups of coffee, takes a bone-freezingly cold shower, and waits while sitting on the closest chair to the door, fumbling with his fingers and occasionally biting them.

It’s almost ten p.m. when he hears the sound of a key in the lock, and stands up so fast his head spins and has to grasp to a wall to prevent himself from falling.

“Hello,” he says, and a fatigue looking Remus raises his head and stares at him.

“Hello,” he replies back, heading straight for the kitchen, and turns the kettle on. Sirius jogs behind him, standing so close he can count the freckles on the other man’s neck and get a sniff of his bitter cologne.

Remus turns around, their chest bumping together, and immediately takes a step back, gazing at Sirius with untrusting eyes. “What sort of rubbish have you pulled now?” he asks, suspiciously, and his tone is so cold, Sirius almost chickens out.

“Wha- nothing!” he protests, but Remus still looks unconvinced.

“Fine then. ‘M knackered. Going to bed.” he gives up, and eyes the kettle longingly before spinning on his heels to leave.

Sirius almost shouts. “Wait! Don’t- don’t go yet.” he swallows, “I’ve got something to give you.” 

Remus raises an eyebrow, frozen in place. “What?”

Sirius doesn’t think he can properly speak, so instead reaches his trembling hand inside his jumper’s large pocket, and pulls the notebook out. He puts it on the wooden table, and nervously waits for Remus to open it. With uncertain movements, Remus picks it up, and slowly goes through the pages, his hazel eyes lingering on each page at least half a minute, and by the time he is on the last one, Sirius is expecting a stroke to paralyze his already aching left arm.

“A wolf and a dog.” Remus finally whispers, and Sirius nods. “What does it mean?” he asks, turning his gaze to Sirius. 

Sirius isn’t sure if he can breathe functionally, but tries his best, inhaling deeply, and his throat burns in protest. “They have their paws on each other. Drew it yesterday.” he says, dumbly, and Remus seems unsatisfied.

“I don’t get it, Sirius.”

He curses his brain for having given up on working effectively. The bastard never shuts up when Sirius needs it to, though. “It’s me and you.” he blurts out, and Remus’s eyes go wide.

“What-”

“It’s for you. All of them are, really.” he explains, “I’ve been drawing them for you, apparently.” Apparently.  _ Very smooth, you git. _

Remus sighs through his nose so loudly, his nostrils shake almost comically. “What are you tryna’-”

Sirius cuts in, his heart now in his stomach, “I’m trying to tell you that we have to be together.”

“Oh for God’s sake, we’ve been through this.” Remus grunts, “I told you, I didn’t say any of those things that night to push you into settling or some shite, you don’t have to-”

“I want to-”

“- to do this for me, Sirius. I’ve still got some dignity left in me, I don’t want you to force yourself into being with me just so you won’t be alone.” he continues, and Sirius almost wants to slap him.

"I'm not doing this because I'm alone! I'm alone because I didn't know I should be doing  _ this _ !" he somewhat yells, moving his finger back and forth between them. 

Remus snorts loudly. “Right, because why not be with the reliable, willing to  _ die for you _ Remus Lupin? The Remus Lupin that falls in love with his best mate when they’re fourteen and spends seven sodding years  _ pining  _ after the said mate, when he doesn’t even know if he’s queer; and then when with a bit of fluke, he  _ is _ , he pours his heart out in the middle of the mate’s mental breakdown, like a bad romantic film-”

"Do you ever stop yacking?" Sirius interrupts, and can't really feel bad about it. Remus instantly stops and presses his lips together, giving him a small nod. This is really turning into a proper disaster, and that’s the last thing Sirius wants it to become. His mind still refuses to cooperate, so he blurts out the first thing that finally comes to it, "You think  _ this  _ isn't the bloody deal for me, do you? Well, you're wrong, mate. You know why? Because even though I'm a tosser and daft as a potato, I've had two days to think myself to death, and I can't seem to come to any other conclusions." he takes a deep breath, urging the insides of his stomach to go still, "I've always had a bloody picture of how it's supposed to be. A tosh mark on my forearm, a fit bloke running towards me in sunset or something, and a blinding happily ever after. But then I realized love isn't always supposed to appear with trumpets and tambourines playing, sometimes it crawls into your heart like a sneaky little sod and just stays there." he smiles lightly, "And stays there for ages without you having a fucking clue."

Remus doesn’t say anything. Sirius can’t even hear him breathe, he only stares and stares and stares until Sirius can’t take it anymore. “Remus?”

“They’re for me, you say?” he eventually says, and Sirius is glad he’s been given a chance to prove he’s not full of rubbish.

“Yes,” he nods, hurriedly, and opens it to a random page. A shoulder full of scars. Brilliant. What a tosser he is. “It’s you. See? The time you went to hospital because you couldn’t breathe properly. You were unconscious. And I guess I thought it was a blindin’ idea to draw you, for some reason.”

Remus’s face does a funny twist. “You drew me when I was out of it?”

“I had nothing better to do, really. You weren’t really good company, you see.” he says, and laughs silently. He remembers that night very vividly; desperate to distract himself so he wouldn’t tear his own skin apart, he had asked James to bring him his notebook. Even if James had thought it to be strange, he hadn’t said anything.

They fall into silence again, and Sirius looks nowhere but at Remus’s vacant face. His brows are slightly tangled and his mouth half pouting, but other than that, there’s no sign of any kind of emotion in his expression, and Sirius’s heart drops at the thought of never getting any answer but  _ this  _ to his confession. He prefers to feel pain and for it to burn his insides, than to wonder and tiptoe until  _ something _ happens.

“That was a nice speech. Practiced it, have you?” Remus eventually says, pulling Sirius out of his agonizing train of thoughts. It is impossible to tell if he’s being snarky or not, so Sirius decides to just go with the truth.

“I had another in mind, to be honest. This one just came out of nowhere.”

Remus is smiling faintly. “But it was brilliant.” he states, and before Sirius knows it, they are face to face, eye to eye, lip to lip.

Remus’s lips land on the corner of his mouth at first, but then Sirius tilts his head and gives access to the other man’s roaming tongue and it counts his teeth one by one, before entering his mouth, hot flames of excitement bursting through his body. Remus is pressed against him, so closely that Sirius can feel his heartbeat against his own, both racing with pleasure, and his hand comes up to tug at Sirius's hair. The rough fingernails on his cold skin send a jolt to his cock and he moans, mirrored by Remus a moment later. He wonders if this is real, because if it is, humankind has made a fool of itself trying so hard to go to heaven.

The kettle whistles urgently in the background, and Sirius feels no need to turn it off, because he will burn the whole universe down if it means he can keep kissing Remus Lupin like this. Remus seemingly feels the same, as he makes no attempt to do anything either, only undoes the first button of Sirius’s trousers and brings his teeth to his earlobe, grazing the soft skin there. Sirius lets out a half sob sounding like Remus’s name, but is in too deep to be embarrassed by it.

“I’m such a daft git.” he says, and Remus groans against his neck, “We could’ve done this ages ago.”

“Well, you still seem to be set on stopping us, because you won’t shut your mush, Pads.”

Sirius makes a sound between a laugh and a moan as Remus bites on his collarbone. “You’re absolutely right. I gotta shut up. Now, mister Moony, your room, or mine?”

Remus pulls away from him, his eyes shining with mischief. Sirius would’ve thought he was the devil if he didn’t look so heavenly, with swollen lips and a flush painting his pale skin. His heart grows twice in his chest when he looks at him, threatening to break his ribs and fall into Remus’s hands, where it apparently belongs.

“Why bedrooms when the couch is so much closer?”

And with that, Sirius can’t really argue.

  
  


Sirius wakes up warm, comfortable, and pressed to a lean body. The figure mumbles something in his sleep and grips Sirius tighter when he tries to turn, and he has to bite on his finger to make sure he isn’t dreaming.

They are in Remus’s bed, having moved to it at some point of the night when the couch had been too small to work for their exploratory positions; It groans under Sirius’s weight shifting, and the sound finally pulls Remus out of sleep.

“Good morning.” he whispers, flipping Sirius so they are face to face. His breath slightly smells of sex, and Sirius grins at the thought of the reason why.

“Good morning.” he murmurs against Remus’s lips and the other man draws back. 

“I probably taste like your cock, Sirius.” he protests, but Sirius pulls him in and places a long kiss on his mouth.

“That’s the bloody idea.” he says, huskily, and Remus laughs breathlessly.

“You’re a cow.” 

Sirius smirks. “A cow you shagged multiple times last night.”

Remus blushes, and fuck, it’s overwhelming. “Oh, God.” he says, burying his face in the crook of Sirius’s neck. 

“No need for a review, really. It’s still vivid.” he mocks, and brings his lips to the other man’s ear, “probably will be vivid for the rest of my life.”

Remus looks half stuck between wanting to smack him and kiss him, and when he does the latter, Sirius shudders uncontrollably. Is this how this will go from now on? A touch can bring his soul to fire and his skin to ice?

Remus is staring at him with such adoration Sirius can feel it permanently settling in his bones. “I love you.” he suddenly says, but knows that it has been a long time coming.

He wishes he had a camera so he could take a picture of Remus’s face in that moment; glowing with both surprise and morning light, hazel eyes wide and damp and amazed, and lips jolting up and down, as if he can’t decide whether to laugh or cry. 

“I love you so fucking much.” Sirius says again, and doesn’t wait for Remus to say anything, because he already knows it with his whole being. He kisses him instead, over and over, until he can’t inhale with or without it.

“Sirius,” Remus breaths out, “God, Sirius. You will drive me mad, I know it.” 

“Aren’t you already?” he pouts derisively and expects Remus to fight back, but is given a short chuckle instead.

“Yes, I am. I’m mad for you, arse over tits.” The man says, hoarsely, and takes Sirius's hand in his own. The sincerity in his voice crumples Sirius’s heart in the best possible way, and he has to take a moment before he can speak.

“Blimey, I’m so daft. How did I miss this?”

Remus strokes his hair lovingly, and laughs. “It’s fine, Sirius.”

“No, it’s not, really. I’ve been drawing anything you’ve touched or looked at or even breathed on and I had no idea. A whole sodding notebook full of anything that had anything to do with you, a notebook I wanted to give my  _ soulmate _ , at that.”

He feels Remus go suddenly tense, and realizes that he’s said a word Remus is probably still sensitive about.

“Hey,” he says, and Remus meets his eyes, nervously, “You don’t still worry about that, do you?”

Remus blushes faintly, and clears his throat. “A bit, yes.” he confesses, and Sirius feels slightly hurt.

“You don’t have faith in me, do you?” he says, flatly, and Remus shakes his head with such force, it hits Sirius on the nose.

“Sorry.” he mutters, before planting a kiss on the tip of it, “No, it’s not that, it’s just that;” he pauses, stealing his gaze away.

“What?” Sirius insists, grabbing Remus’s arm. 

“You’ve always wanted to be with someone and have a mark, and I’m not that, I don’t even got one, and I think maybe if someone else comes along or you get your mark or something, it'll be the end of it for us.” he stammers.

Sirius’s first instinct is to shout and object, but a brief look at Remus’s already paling face changes his mind. This is delicate, and his only chance to save something he knows is worth more than anything else in his life. “I was always about that soulmate shite, yeah,” he starts, “And honestly, I don’t think I didn’t get a mark because of you back then; but I know that I  _ haven’t gotten  _ it because of you. I don’t think I’m ever going to love anyone as much as I’m mad for you, Moony.” he says, and refuses to peek at Remus’s expression, because he knows it will only drive him into speaking purely from his heart, and Remus needs logic - he always has. “You are absolutely bonkers if you think I’m not sure, because I am, with all my bloody being. I can’t really talk to anyone but you -not even James-, or trust anyone as much as I do you, or even think about anyone as much I think about you. I’ve pushed this shite inside whenever it’s gotten time to come up, because I’m absolutely daft.”

“Sirius-”

He ignores Remus, “And then my father died, and it’d be a lie if I say I was devastated, but I still felt a bit sad; and I thought if I feel sad for an alcoholic arse who beat me all my childhood, how would I feel if I lose someone I love, and I can’t lose you, not at all, because it was hell when you didn’t talk to me, and it will always be hell when you’re not around.” he stops then, because he can’t really breathe anymore.

Remus’s face is painted with both amusement and glee, and he leans forward and kisses Sirius softly. “I believe you, Pads. Take a moment to inhale, mate.” he says, jokingly, and kisses him again.

Sirius still feels the need to say something, but he doesn’t know what, so he lets himself melt into the sensation and be enveloped by Remus’s scent. Remus slowly makes his way down Sirius’s neck, and plants a light kiss to every inch of skin he can find, palming Sirius’s cock in the process. Sirius is achingly hard in no time, and can feel himself leaking pre-cum, but there is a madenning part of his brain that still has to settle  _ something _ , and he knows it can’t wait.

“Moony?” he moans, and tries to shift away so he can find the strength in himself to stop this, but Remus’s grip is tight and his mouth hot on his skin. 

“Mm?” he mumbles against him, and the vibration does nothing to help Sirius with his decision. 

“Can we talk, a minute?”

Remus draws back and looks at him as if he doesn’t know who he is. “You want to talk right  _ now _ , Sirius?”

“I still don’t think you’ve properly believed me.” he says, and Remus shifts completely away.

“For God’s sake, Pads, I’m fine.” he groans, pulling himself up on his elbow, “Do you need me to sign something, maybe? So we can get back to this?”

Temptation swells in his chest, but his mind resists, as if it is trying to make up for its last night’s shortcomings. “Can you really tell me that you’ve completely believed me then?” he asks, and watches Remus thoroughly as his expression changes a bit.

“Look-”

“No, Moony. Answer me.” he cuts in, firmly. 

Remus growls before lying on his back and looking at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact. “I know you’re telling me what you think is true, Sirius, but I don't think anything lasts forever.”

The blood in Sirius’s veins freezes, because despite his insistence, he thought Remus had believed him. He’s not sure what to say, but then again, when has ever been good at talking? All he ever does is avoid and avoid, until it threatens to drown him or get him into massive trouble. He doesn’t want to do that anymore, not with Remus. “Would you have thought that we would last forever if we had matching marks?” he suddenly asks, and Remus turns and stares at him.

“What?”

“Would you have thought of it then?”

Remus rubs a hand on his own face. “I don’t know, Sirius.” he confesses.

“You would’ve.” Sirius announces, and Remus blushes slightly. “And yes, it’s a bloody good sign and everything, but you said you didn’t get yours because you fell for me, didn’t you?”

“I did, yes.”

“So why is it hard for you to believe the same shite’s happened to me, Remus?” he pushes, and Remus is apparently speechless. This must be a record. “I don’t give a damn about that mark, Moony. I’m mad for you, with or without a mark, and that’s not going to change, really.” he says, softly, and brushes his lips on Remus’s scarred knuckles. “I love you, and I’ve stopped loving the idea of someone else a long time ago. You’re the most brilliant person I know, Moony, and that's including myself.”

Remus laughs faintly. “You mean it?” he asks, uncertainly, and Sirius nods.

“I absolutely mean it. Haven’t been more sure of anything in my entire life. I know I’ve said it a dozen times today, but I love you.” he says, scooting closer to the man beside him, “You’re also a great shag, and look devilishly good when you’re sucking my cock.” he whispers, watching Remus’s breath get hitched in his lungs, “Now how about you decide how  _ I  _ look when I suck your cock, dear Moony?

There is a drawn out mewl and then Sirius is licking the tip of Remus’s cock, tasting the pre-cum that is so  _ Remus _ , he almost laughs; and well, if Remus’s fists tugging at his hair and his hips enveloping his head aren’t enough signs, him moaning Sirius’s name over and over again really is.

After Remus comes undone -Sirius has decided what his next drawing would be- he pulls Sirius up by his shoulders and kisses him so fiercely, they both almost fall out of bed. 

“You look absolutely lush.” Remus pants, “That’s how you look when you have my cock in your mouth. Fit. Peng. Smashing. Buff.”

Sirius smirks, drawing patterns on Remus’s back with his fingertips. “That’s your whole vocabulary, dear Moony?”

“God, I love you, Sirius.” he says, and Sirius forgets how to breathe for a moment. He’s known it, but hearing it from Remus when they’re tangled together in bed and smell of each other is really something else. “I can’t breathe when I’m with you, I honestly can’t. I can’t, God- I can’t live without you, I’m certain.” he kisses Sirius again.

Sirius feels as though he is going to faint. How has he been calling what he did before this  _ living _ ? “I love you too.” he replies, softly, and lazily kisses Remus anywhere he can without having to move. He is answered with lips brushing on his palm, and decides he can’t take it anymore. “Not that I’m not mad for you, or don’t want to spend the rest of my life in this bed, but I think I might die of joy if we stay like this, Moony.” he says, gasping when Remus presses Sirius’s hand to his own chest.

“We should get up and make breakfast, but before that, I want you to know something.”

“Yeah?” he asks, worriedly, and Remus smiles.

“This,” he says, pointing to Sirius’s palm on his heart, “Is what you do to me. The git’s racing mad for  _ you _ , Sirius. Don’t ever forget it.”

Sirius almost sobs before covering Remus’s hand with his own, intertwining their fingers together. “Remus;” he tries, but gets choked up.

“Sirius.” the other man says, and his eyes are glinting, his lips swollen and curved into a sweet smile, his hair splayed on the white pillow.

Oh to hell with breakfast.

///

“I’m going to go meet Regulus for lunch.” Sirius announces, dryly, standing above Remus who is reading a book, lounged on the biggest sofa.

He raises his head and Sirius kisses him briefly. Only a week and a half, and they already have their sweet rituals. “Your brother, Regulus?”

“Unfortunately.” he groans, and is met with a knowing gaze.

“You’re jittery and look pale, Sirius. Don’t bother pretending you’re just annoyed.” he says, matter of factly, and a wave of pride and irritation washes through Sirius.

“You know me too well for my own sake, Moony dear.”

“I do.” he confirms, slightly leaning up, “Ring me if you need me to help you get out of it, but try to talk to him at first at least, alright? Also, be safe on that bloody thing, I dunno why we got you that.” he growls, “Oh, and also, give me another snog before you go.”

Sirius smirks and bends down to kiss his boyfriend. Remus’s hand comes to the back of his neck, steadying him, and they stay like that for quite some time. Eventually, Remus lets go and Sirius feels a bit dizzy.

“It’s not fair that I have to leave  _ this _ , and go meet my prat of a brother.”

“Well, I know you’re the one who agreed to meet, so don’t pretend you’ve got no choice in it.” Remus laughs, amused, and urges Sirius forward by nudging him with his foot. “Go on then.”

“Fine, fine, but you’re going to regret kicking me out when I come back.” he pouts, walking towards the entrance, “Because your arse’s gonna hurt for a week when I’m through with you.”

He closes the door right before Remus’s shoe hits it.

  
  


He is on his third cigarette when his brother shows up around the corner from the restaurant he’s picked, and gives him a  _ look _ .

“You still smoke?” Regulus says the moment he steps in front him, and Sirius has to mentally shake himself to stop himself from leaving right then and there.

“And you’re still a git, and don’t seem to remember I can beat the shite out of you; so you see, some things never change.” he bites back, and throws his half finished cigarette on the ground. It’s really a great loss to endure for his brother.

Regulus looks unsure for a moment, but then reaches out his hand for Sirius to shake. He does, reluctantly, and suddenly catches a glimpse of a deep scar on his brother’s wrist.

“What-” he sees Regulus notice, and quickly darts his eyes away. Then, with hesitation, he raises his head, peeking at Regulus who’s gone white.

“When?” Sirius slowly asks, and the other guy just shakes his head. 

“I’ve made reservations in that restaurant. Let’s go.”

“No! To hell with the restaurant! You won’t talk shite in there.” he almost shouts, “Let’s go sit in a park or something.”

“Sirius;”

He breaks in. “I’m not going to let it go, Reg. You might as well tell me right now.”

There is no denying that Regulus is growing significantly uncomfortable, but Sirius doesn’t really care. He is a pusher, and he’s too far along in that field to apologize for it. His brother eventually exhales softly, and then nods.

“Fine then.” he surrenders, “But you have to give me one of those.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “A fag? Since when, little brother?”

“Since now, I guess.” he says, and starts walking without looking back. Sirius follows him hurriedly, and they both go a fair amount of distance before a small park is in their sights, and Regulus sighs contentedly before taking a seat on a rusty bench. His Burberry coat is in a comical contrast with the surface, and his Berluti boots or Rolex aren’t really helping. Sirius looks at his own clothes; black skinny jeans, a long gray hoodie with ‘Clash Lover’ written on it in white, and his favorite suede black boots. All of them together probably aren’t worth as much as one of Regulus’s socks. Sirius bites his lip to stop himself from smiling at the thought of it. How great he feels he’s left that house.

He joins his brother on the bench, pulling a cigarette out of the almost empty packet, and offers it to him. “You wanna go easy on your first try, though.” he says, and Regulus nods.

With trembling hands, Regulus takes the lighter, lights one, and inhales deeply, before coughing uncontrollably. “How do you smoke these?” he groans, crinkling his nose.

“You’ll get used to it.” Sirius laughs, “I’d rather you don’t, however.”

Regulus takes two more drags before he gives up, and hands it to Sirius. Sirius eyes it longingly, but decides he prefers to talk right away, and squishes the butt under his foot. He then awkwardly stares forward and tries to come up with a good opening line, when the other guy’s voice cuts the silence.

“I did it two days after we buried father.” he says, flatly, “In the bathtub. Almost bled to death but then a servant found me. Called an ambulance. Got me to hospital before it was too late. I begged him not to tell anyone, and he only told mother, but she didn’t really care, as long as I didn’t do it again, because ‘It would suggest the wrong things about our family’.” he air quotes the last part, and it takes Sirius a great deal of effort not to howl in rage.

“Why?” he asks weakly, and is answered by an indifferent shrug.

“I was somewhat glad dad had died, and thought it made me a beast; but then I saw mother never showing the smallest bit of sorrow, and I realized we were all the same. Except for you, Sirius. You’ve always been better than us.”

Sirius shakes his head. God, he can hear his heart breaking in half. “I didn’t give a tosh when dad died either, Reg. I’m like you. And besides, the bastard beat us everyday when we were kids, Regulus. It doesn’t make you a monster to hate him.” he laughs bitterly, “I don’t know what it says about mother though; they were both demons, so she doesn’t really have that edge.”

“I don’t want to be like them, Sirius. I don’t.” Regulus suddenly says, hysterically, swinging back and forth on the bench. Without thinking, Sirius takes him into his arms.

“You don’t have to be; you’re not, really. The fact that you know how horrible they are is the first step and you’ve taken it.” he whispers into his brother’s hair, and notices his collar going damp.

“But you hate me, like you hate them. You left and never returned any of my calls. You hate me, because I’m a monster.” Regulus is full on sobbing now, and Sirius holds him tighter, feeling his own eyes beginning to water. There are years worth of pain and misunderstandings between them, and he now has to close the gap with a few simple sentences so they can start mending their relationship.

“I don’t hate you, for God’s sake. I’m holding you in my arms, you’re my brother! Of course I don’t hate you.” he emphasizes, and strokes Regulus’s back gently, “But I’ve been angry at you for years, because you took their side even after all the times I tried to protect you, that’s all.” he bites his lip. Fuck, it’s hard to keep his cool when all he wants is to go into his childhood home and strangle his mother. “I didn’t want anything to do with  _ them _ , but it doesn’t mean I hate you.”

Regulus whines muffledly, gripping a fistful of Sirius’s hoodie. “What am I supposed to do, Sirius?” he whimpers after a few moments of silence, and Sirius knows the answer to this one very well. He’s lived it.

“Get out of that house, Reg. I know you’ve got money, so it oughta be easy, right? Go to a shrink. Make a life for yourself. Away from them.”

Regulus nods, and finally pulls his face away from Sirius's chest. His eyes are swollen, the gray in them barely visible. He looks both ten and thirty, nothing close to a nineteen year old. With a small shudder, he swallows hard, before giving Sirius a crooked smile.

“Can I have another fag now?”

Sirius barks out a laugh.

  
  


“Moony?” he calls out as soon as he enters the flat, and Remus comes out of the bathroom.

“How’d it go?”

Sirius closes the distance between them in four long steps and takes him into a suffocating hug. “Never leave me, promise?”

There is a moment of hesitation before Remus squeezes him tightly and kisses the top of his head. “Never, Sirius. Never.”

Sirius exhales deeply. “Alright then.”

Alright then.

///

Remus’s birthday comes and goes in a haste. They shag. Eat breakfast. Shag some more. Eat Indian takeout. Take a shower to get rid of the smell, and shag there too. Remus wraps one towel around the both of them, and with their bodies pressed tightly together, they can’t resist; it results in Sirius kneeling in front of Remus and taking his cock inside his mouth and sucking it until Remus cries out his name in a voice so high pitched, Sirius fears they go deaf. 

They get ready and go to Peter’s (and yes, Susan’s) flat to celebrate. Sirius hits a piece of cake to James’s face, and Lily yells at them, but also laughs, rubbing her now showing stomach.

Remus gets a few books from Susan (signed to his own name, eventually.), a lap-top bag from Peter, a set of mugs and a box full of different teas from the expecting couple, and what seems to be all the clothes Sirius has been able to find, including one of his own shirts with a card that reads ‘ _To my Moony, who is ironically also the sun_ _of my life. Wear this shirt before and after I shag you senseless into bed. With love, Sirius._ ’

They play seven minutes in heaven, and Sirius is sure when it is his turn, he sees Lily slightly nudge the bottle with her foot so it lands on Remus; and then they go into a closet -with Peter’s continuous begging they don’t  _ spill _ anything anywhere- and snog for so long, Sirius starts to doubt the meaning of the word seven. 

It is midnight when they leave, both on his bike, with Remus clutching to him in the cold weather, his hardness pressing against Sirius’s arse. When they get home, Sirius barely closes the door before he is bent over the counter, his nails digging into anything he can find, because Remus is thrusting into him with such force, he is afraid he won’t be able to walk for some time.

After, Remus wears the shirt, and Sirius laughs, and then so does Remus, both snorting. Then Sirius remembers something, and rushes into his room, and comes back with a wrapped square shaped gift. He looks at Remus excitedly as he opens it, and smiles widely when his fingers run through the bumpy surface of the canvas, a picture of Remus splayed on it; him reading a book, his locks falling on his forehead and eyes completely focused, unaware of a painter’s prying eyes. 

Remus then puts the painting aside, and kisses him and kisses him, thanking him in between, his breath smelling of beer and chocolate cake, his hands stroking the nape of Sirius’s neck. They shag right there on the floor of the living room, and Sirius is now certain he can’t walk, but it is worth it, all worth it.

He loves so much, his chest can’t contain it. He loves deeply, wholeheartedly, unfaidingly. 

He is in the deepest of the deep.

///

Lily’s birthday shower is something Sirius had never thought he’d see when they were teenagers, but against all odds, James Potter’s gotten the bird, and a kid, and a life he’s always wanted.

So here Sirius is, kissing Lily on the cheek, carefully avoiding bumping into her stomach, and is followed by Remus behind him, saying a thank you to Lily congratulating him on getting his dream job as a teaching assistant. He smiles warmly at Sirius and tells Lily he couldn’t have done it without his boyfriend, and it’s still music to Sirius’s ears, even after almost six months.

The room is decorated in blue, and the cupcakes are the same color, even the small glasses painted on them are a dark cobalt. Sirius is done asking about the name of the kid, or suggesting they name him Padfoot, because he’s been hit on the head by the mother many times and knows better by now.

They all cheer when James says Sirius is the official godfather -even though they all already know it- and drink to him, even Lily who is grumpily holding a glass of water. He then knows it is the best time to say the news, the news he hasn’t even shared with Remus yet.

“I also wanted to say something.” he announces, and all pairs of eyes turn to him, but he is only searching for one -the big, hazel one swimming with love- and when he finds them, he looks nowhere else. “My brother and I decided to put some money together, and open a repair shop. So I’m officially resigning my current job, so I can manage that store,” he pauses, inhaling deeply, “and also go to uni.”

There is a short moment of silence before hurrahs fill the room, and every hand is patting his back, and ruffling his hair, but he is only looking at the lean figure standing beside him, gently touching his neck, as he softly whispers, “I love you, Sirius. ‘M so proud of you.”

The clouds are absolutely smooth under his feet.

///

It is the last day of July. Remus wakes him up with a deep kiss, smelling strongly of Sirius’s cum, and Sirius doesn’t protest. He slowly slides his hand under the blanket to rub Remus’s cock, but is interrupted when his phone rings.

‘ _ Lily’s having the kid. Hurry up then. _ ’

Remus groans the whole way there, and Sirius jokes that he must be  _ very _ good if he’s managed to get the saint Remus Lupin to nag about having to go to their friend in labor, and Remus nods and says that yes, he is, he is absolutely brilliant.

It doesn’t take long when they’re there, and James Potter’s kid is handed to him; the teenage rebel and troublemaker Sirius once had known is now a father, and Sirius can’t help but stare, with a lump in his throat, but this time from pure happiness. He then turns around and catches Remus watching him, with such adoration and love, Sirius’s breath gets hitched in his lungs all over again, like the first time he’d all that time ago. 

Then James carefully gives him his son, with Remus by his side, and Sirius looks at the small infant in his arms. A black haired, green eyed boy, yawning.

Harry.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So it's finished. I spent a whole lot of time on this, I researched and looked up a looot of British slangs, so this is pretty much my favorite fic ever.  
> I see Sirius in a lot of people around me, but none of them really try as hard as him to be good. Most of them enjoy being clueless, and hurt a lot of people. I wanted to redeem all of them by redeeming Sirius somehow.  
> I've been in Remus's shoes for a very short period of my life, and I really feel for him. I hope you love him as much as I did when writing him; he is a saint.  
> I tried really hard to get the birthdays and ages right, so that's that. Funny, I didn't know Sirius was the oldest. Huh.  
> Well, I'll stop rambling.  
> The usual, you know. Leave some sort of feedback. Thank you! :D


End file.
